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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26262367">Looking for Home</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/JonSequitur/pseuds/JonSequitur'>JonSequitur</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Black Widow (Comics), Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, Angst and Feels, Applied Phlebotinum, BAMF Bucky Barnes, BAMF Natasha Romanov, BAMF Sam Wilson, BAMF Steve Rogers, Background Relationships, Captain America's Shield, Character Death Fix, Declarations Of Love, Developing Friendships, Dialogue Heavy, Domestic Avengers, Dubious Science, Enthusiastic Consent, F/M, Fix-It, Fix-It of Sorts, Food, Friends to Lovers, Friendship/Love, Holding Hands, Injury Recovery, Life-Affirming Sex, Love, Love Confessions, Magic, Magical Accidents, Magical Artifacts, Major Character Injury, Minor Original Character(s), Natasha Romanoff - Freeform, Natasha Romanov Feels, Natasha Romanov Has Issues, Natasha Romanov Has PTSD, Natasha Romanov Needs a Hug, Near Death Experiences, POV Alternating, POV Natasha Romanov, POV Steve Rogers, Post-Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protective Steve Rogers, Reunited and It Feels So Good, Romance, Self-Sacrificing Steve Rogers, Sentient Infinity Stones (Marvel), Slow Build, Slow Burn, Slow Romance, Some Humor, Soul Stone (Marvel), Steve Rogers Can Wield Mjolnir, Steve Rogers Cooks, Steve Rogers Feels, Steve Rogers Has Issues, Steve Rogers Has PTSD, Steve Rogers Loves Popcorn, Steve Rogers Needs a Hug, Steve Rogers and the 21st Century, Temporary Character Death, Time Travel, Trust, Trust Issues, Vibranium (Marvel), Wakanda (Marvel), Wakandan Technology, oh my god so much hand holding you guys, open communication is sexy, overuse of food as a framing device, romanogers - Freeform, self-sacrificing Natasha Romanov, woo-woo</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-05-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 04:27:52</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>69</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>199,900</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26262367</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/JonSequitur/pseuds/JonSequitur</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>The Avengers and their allies defeated the ultimate threat to Earth and the Universe, but in the wake of the great battles and sacrifices, unanswered questions remained. This story ties up loose ends, wrestles with intriguing implications and pursues satisfying resolutions.<br/><br/>Chapters 1-3: Going back to Peggy in 1949 was a dream come true for Steve. But he hadn’t thought through all it would mean for both of them.<br/>Chapters 4-?: Steve travels to 2023 Wakanda, where Natasha awaits him. He reveals the stunt he pulled to pass on the shield, what happened when he returned the Soul Stone, and why he’s no longer in the past. She tells the story of her fatal fall—and beyond. Steve and Nat evolve their relationship, keeping their presence a secret from all but a few. They grow closer to T’Challa, Okoye and Shuri as their nation navigates post-Blip struggles. At the same time, new Captain America Sam and the rest of the current Avengers must forge ahead without their old leaders. Both groups pursue revelations about time travel, other dimensions, enhancement and Infinity Stones that lead them to a better understanding of their Universe and identities, culminating in a series of adventures that bring them together again.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Clint Barton &amp; Natasha Romanov, James "Bucky" Barnes &amp; Sam Wilson, Okoye &amp; Natasha Romanov, Okoye &amp; Steve Rogers, Peggy Carter/Steve Rogers, Steve Rogers &amp; Natasha Romanov, Steve Rogers &amp; T'Challa, Steve Rogers/Natasha Romanov</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>418</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>506</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Midnight Run</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Greetings, fair fanfic fans and fictioneers! Welcome to my first work posted here. </p>
<p>OVERALL SUMMARY UPDATED 5/2/2021<br/>(or 2/5/2021 depending on where you are)</p>
<p>RATINGS: The vast majority of the chapters are "Teen and Up" rated, which I equate with USA PG-13 standards: can include mild violence, general romantic/sexual themes, moderate profanity, a handful of F words. A few chapters are Mature or Explicit. A chapter rating and content notes are included in each chapter summary so you can decide if there's anything in there that is likely to be uncomfortable or triggering for you. For those interested in Explicit content, there's not a lot TBH. For those who prefer to stick to Teen rated content, you should be fine skipping the E chapters and still follow the story. Many of the Teen chapters have content notes that say "sexual themes." These are "mild"--it is a romance after all so there's kissing and yearning and stuff. Anything more graphic will get a stronger rating.</p>
<p>TAGS: Chapters 1-3 are Steve/Peggy, most of the rest are Steve/Natasha. Other characters that I've tagged have or will pop up now and then, as well as the themes in the additional tags. I make clear in the chapter summaries what relationships and characters are covered.</p>
<p>This story partially follows MCU canon and extrapolates from Endgame into its future. I have disagreements with what I see as a failure to follow the implications of the circumstances and character development laid out in the films. I adhere to the major pillars, even some I'm dubious about. But because I have some divergent opinions about the logical conclusions of certain situations, it’s more of an alternative given the narrative choices made by TPTB. </p>
<p>I extrapolate from the pre-2020 movie versions only--I don't think it's workable to keep changing what I've got planned as other MCU canon emerges from WandaVision, Falcon/Winter Soldier, Black Panther, Black Widow, etc.</p>
<p>The work has turned out pretty talky, but if you love dialogue and fraught conversations and amateur philosophizing like I do, maybe you will enjoy this too. Besides this work (which is a lot longer than I'd originally envisioned!), I've got ideas for side chapters and one-offs with the same characters and adding more from the universe. </p>
<p>I hope you enjoy!</p>
    </blockquote><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Returning to the past and the love he had lost was a dream come true. But Steve hadn’t thought through all the implications of the move. What could he do now to salvage his disintegrating life with Peggy?</p><p>Rating: Teen and Up<br/>Content Note: Sexual themes, birth control, one F bomb</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Leaving the gym about 2:45 a.m., Steve walked warily down the street, his hat pulled way down low. He’d left on his heavy cotton workout togs and Converse All-Stars, packed his street clothes and brogans in a canvas knapsack. The streets were sufficiently quiet that he’d taken a chance and left off the nano-mask he relied on to hide his features. Having turned onto deserted First Street, he stowed his fedora in the top of his bag, slung it over his back, and began to run north.</p>
<p>Though walking the few miles to the house wouldn’t take long, running would be much faster, getting him to bed that much sooner. He maintained a fast long-distance cruising pace except when he saw or heard a car approach; he didn’t run as fast as he was capable because it would have been impossible to slow to a normal speed before the anomaly was noticed. Of course, anyone who happened to look out a window, or lingered outdoors having a before-bed smoke, would see a man running the length of their street faster than an Olympic runner of the day could sprint a hundred yards. But the sleepy witness would assume they were dreaming or hallucinating, or at least anyone they told would.</p>
<p>He arrived home in Columbia Heights a few minutes later, entering as quietly as possible so as not to wake Peggy or provoke the next-door dog. He shed his bag on the sofa and started to strip.</p>
<p>Fresh boxers, pajamas, robe, and slippers were stacked in the bathroom to don after a quick shower. It had been one more slight adjustment, one more little detail of life that he’d forgotten: how formally people, at least in his current social class, dressed for sleeping in the late 1940s. After a honeymoon month, Peggy had seemed rather confused at his coming to bed naked, so he’d adapted to fit expectations. The night clothing seemed unnecessarily complicated. This was supposed to be a simpler time than the one he’d lived in for over a decade.</p>
<p>Standing under the anemic spray of the old-fashioned shower he’d rigged up in the clawfoot tub, Steve wished again he’d thought more thoroughly about what to bring with him to the past. Some minor comforts he missed from the 21st century would have been easy to carry and inconsequential if somehow discovered. A decent shower head was one of them. A modern pair of athletic shoes was another; his ankles and arches lamented the lack of well-engineered footwear. He wondered if his enhanced ability to quickly recover from such insults would someday be worn down from sheer repetition.</p>
<p>He dried and dressed dutifully, though annoyed at the warm layers he didn’t need. But the exercise and shower had invigorated him, and his body and mind attuned to a reason to shed the clothing again. He slipped into the bedroom where Peggy slept quietly, but was perhaps less careful than he might have been about disturbing her while getting under the covers. He was rewarded when she yawned and turned over, reaching out to stroke his shoulder.</p>
<p>“What time is it?” she asked, voice crackly and dry from sleep.</p>
<p>“After three.”</p>
<p>“So late. Don’t you have class in the morning?”</p>
<p>“Not until ten. I’ll be fine. In fact, I wouldn’t mind staying up a little later,” he murmured as he nuzzled her neck.</p>
<p>She giggled drowsily and ran her hand down his arm. “You are indeed resilient. Mm, why don’t you see what you can do to make the lack of sleep worthwhile?”</p>
<p>“Yes ma’am. But let me make sure . . .” He reached over to his bedside table and opened the drawer. He’d remembered there were a couple of condoms left in it, but he was obviously mistaken. “Darn. Hold that thought,” he said, sitting up and putting his slippers back on.</p>
<p>“Can’t we just do without this time?” she said with a hint of peevishness.</p>
<p>He went back to the bathroom and didn’t answer, not wanting to embark in the middle of the night on the stale discussion about when to start a family, or at least start trying. He’d already used his enrollment in art school as an argument to put off children for a couple of years. After graduation, he figured to propose that they wait until he was making a decent living as an illustrator before she cut back on her long hours at work and took leave time for pregnancies.</p>
<p>What he couldn’t do was reveal exactly why she should wait. She needed to establish herself more firmly as a leader in her organization before having children. Having carefully studied her history from a vantage point decades later, he saw that the timing of marriage and family had worked out quite well for her career, in their original timeline. With his return to her in 1949, Steve had split them off from that timeline. He’d also accelerated her marriage date and preempted the husband she had been fated to have. Maintaining the birth years and number of her children therefore seemed extra important for ensuring the current timeline would have the same results as the one he’d come from.</p>
<p>A disrupted history would be subject to a different, uncharted future. He had no doubt that the extraterrestrial threats he’d witnessed would still arrive in six or seven decades, because alterations in Earth’s history would not likely prevent their rise in the new timeline. But without the right individuals and technologies ready to oppose the threats, the eventual victory would not be the foregone conclusion it was in the original history. And any ending other than Earth’s forces prevailing was unthinkable.</p>
<p>In any event, revealing to Peggy the history of the life she’d not yet lived was inadvisable, to say the least. After Steve had sketchily explained the situation, she had reluctantly agreed that it was desirable to maintain the timeline. However, even if she truly embraced the necessity, any knowledge he might pass on of what was going to happen—what needed to happen—could influence her reactions and decisions. The influence might not even be conscious, but nonetheless could cause potent ripples into events, which could become disruptive. Steve’s presence was problematic enough, even though he would do his best to live quietly and affect history as little as possible. In extreme, almost ridiculous contrast to the exploits and fame of his life in his former context.</p>
<p>In the bathroom, he pulled the chain on the light switch and swung open the mirror over the sink to reveal the white-painted interior of the medicine cabinet. On the bottom shelf, tucked next to the calamine lotion, were three Trojans, maybe the exact ones he’d thought were at the bedside. He grabbed one and was closing the mirror when his fingertip noticed an odd roughness on the smooth pouch. Examining it, he saw that the foil was pricked up in one spot in the middle. He turned it over; a tiny puncture marred the surface. Holding it up to the light, he saw a brilliant spark peeking through a hole punched clean through the package.</p>
<p>How had that happened? He examined the other two in the cabinet; they had been similarly punctured, apparently with a thumbtack. He turned and opened the linen closet to retrieve from the top shelf two Trojan boxes, which he had brought with him from the 2020s. Of course the ‘40s had condoms, but they were less reliable and comfortable. One box was open, and the dozen or so condoms in it were all spoiled in the same way. He unsealed the other box, which contained pristine packages.</p>
<p>Steve felt his hands and feet grow cold and his heart rate increase. The obvious explanation for the tampering made him feel sick to his stomach. His first impulse was to pack away the evidence, go to bed, and pretend nothing had happened, hoping that this was an unsavory if vivid dream. But he hadn’t survived all this time, hadn’t gotten where he was, by ignoring unpleasant realities.</p>
<p>Dragging his feet, he made his way back to the bedroom and turned on the lamp on his bedside table. Annoyed by his delay and disturbed by the light, his wife sat up and was about to make a cross remark, but he spoke first.</p>
<p>“Peggy.”</p>
<p>She heard an unfamiliar note in his voice, just this side of a threat. Surprised, she swallowed her irritation. “What is it, darling?”</p>
<p>He held up the shiny gold package. “This has a hole punched in it. They all do,” he said flatly, and tossed it on the bed.</p>
<p>Her mind raced through a few explanations and excuses, quickly discarded. He was neither dumb enough nor sufficiently gullible anymore to buy them. She should have had a cover story ready for this eventuality, but the act had been so impulsive and blurred by alcohol that she’d almost forgotten doing it. It was so uncharacteristically duplicitous—at least, uncharacteristic for her personal life—that she’d scarcely believed it of herself.</p>
<p>Confession was good for the soul, it was said. “I did it a few days ago. On another night when you were at the gym. I was feeling sorry for myself, and had one too many martinis. I regret it.”</p>
<p>“You didn’t regret it enough to take them out of circulation.”</p>
<p>She sighed. “No, I suppose not. If we’re being frank . . . I’m tired of being manipulated. I suppose I wanted to manipulate you back, a little. Perhaps a lot.”</p>
<p>His brow furrowed. “You feel manipulated? I’m trying my best to stay out of your way, to build a quiet life, make sure everything goes well, goes as it should.”</p>
<p>“Steven, please. You do it almost every day. Around the prospect of children, around my job, around our social life, such as it is. You’re subtle, I’ll give you that. You’ve become a much better liar than you were during the war. I suppose the future taught you; apparently deceit served you well there. It’s not an attractive quality to have gained, however. Especially between us.”</p>
<p>Her barb both stung and angered. He raised his voice. “I had to learn to fight in every goddamn way available. Whatever it took. And you’re one to talk. You retaliated against my supposed dishonesty by fucking sabotaging my choice to put off kids?”</p>
<p>Her chin came up. “Your language is offensive.”</p>
<p>He closed his eyes a moment and took a deep breath. “Sorry. Habits return under stress.”</p>
<p>“Your future seems quite sordidly profane. To the point, however, I’m the one who has to bear those children. I’m the one with the most at stake. I should be the one to decide if, when, and how to have them.”</p>
<p>“You’re absolutely right,” Steve said, and meant it. “But there are other factors you don’t understand. It’s not a control issue for me. It has to do with preserving the timeline.” He was revealing more than he ought, but he needed to counter her righteousness on bodily autonomy with something true. It was clear that she was in no mood to continue to indulge him and ignore his deflections.</p>
<p>“I see. You’ve ‘explained’ this timeline business to me, insofar as vague and abstract statements can be fobbed off as explanation. We must preserve the course of history, so some disaster, which you won’t talk about, won’t happen at some unspecified point decades from now. Terribly hard to see how my wish to start a family sooner rather than later could possibly affect such a big event.”</p>
<p>“It absolutely could. I can’t, by which I mean I shouldn’t, tell you how or why, though. The stakes are higher than you can imagine. You just have to trust me on this, Peggy.”</p>
<p>She remained silent, considering how to respond. He felt a pang in his gut as he regarded her doubt. “Haven’t I earned that trust?” he asked, with more of a bite than he’d meant the question to have.</p>
<p>“Your courage, commitment, convictions—you spent two years in combat demonstrating them, spectacularly. No one questions those, least of all me. I know you believe you’re doing the right thing. But how do I know it really is the right thing?”</p>
<p>“I’m not talking about a young man ready to be a hero. It’s not about values. I’m talking about experience. Judgment.”</p>
<p>“Experience you refuse to discuss. You imply there was some grand scheme you were involved in to counter this catastrophe that was averted in your time. A catastrophe you allege can also occur here, in our future. I don’t even know if we’ll be alive when it arises, if it does.”</p>
<p>“Whether we’re alive or not doesn’t matter. It’s not something that can be allowed to happen. Ever.”</p>
<p>“Even now you won’t give me a hint of detail. So I have to take that judgment on faith.”</p>
<p>“You once had faith,” he contended. “When I first came over to Italy, I had no clue about how to do what I felt I had to do. But you believed in me, you even helped me. Now that I’ve earned knowledge the hard way, now you’re a skeptic?”</p>
<p>“You were naïve then, true. It was actually easier to put faith in someone so earnest. Maybe I’m more skeptical because you’ve learned to exploit people’s emotions. As you’re doing right now.”</p>
<p>“I’m not trying to be exploitive. I’m desperate to get you to understand. You’re eager to have babies, but you’re ignoring what might happen to them if we screw up this timeline. We can’t risk that, we can’t risk them!”</p>
<p>“My God, you just did it again. You can’t help yourself. It’s as though I don’t know you anymore. Or maybe I never really did.”</p>
<p>“I never would have thought you’d betray my trust like you did with this birth control stunt. Maybe I don’t know you either.”</p>
<p>Steve and Peggy glared at each other, frozen in anger. There was only one clear result of tonight’s argument: they had reached an impasse. She broke her gaze and bowed her head. He snatched up his pillow and headed for the living room.</p>
<p>Fumbling, he turned a switch on a table lamp and tossed the pillow on the end of the overstuffed sofa. He stood breathing shallowly, stunned.</p>
<p>He’d expected nothing like this from his new life in the past. Occasional boredom was as negative an outcome as he had imagined. He’d focused on his long-cherished dream of blissful reconnection with his first love and his original life, of newfound and welcome peace. But his reality, right now, was heartache. And if he were honest, it had been a reality for several months.</p>
<p>It’s late, he told himself. Neither of us is being rational. We need to get some sleep and see what happens in the morning light.</p>
<p>Resting would be a challenge, though. He was wound up. He flexed and relaxed his arms repeatedly to throw off tension built up in his solid musculature.</p>
<p>Abruptly he turned and went over to a tall bookshelf. He reached up and retrieved a single skeleton key from the very top. The key fit the lap drawer of an Edwardian desk by the west window. Inside was a silver cellphone, a pair of white wired earbuds, and a black charger.</p>
<p>He pressed the button to turn on the device and settled the buds in his ears. He almost picked up the charger to yet again plug it in and hope it might function, but it had been clear over the last seven times he’d tried that something had gone wrong inside. He didn’t have the skills to begin to know how to fix it, and there were no available schematics or repair manuals for an object that wouldn’t be invented for some fifty years.</p>
<p>Since the demise of the charger several weeks ago, he had rationed his usage. The phone booted up and an indicator showed a 16% charge. Awfully close for comfort. Tonight, however, was a prime example of his need for the solace of the information captured in its electronic guts.</p>
<p>NO CELLULAR OR WIRELESS NETWORKS AVAILABLE read a message on the screen. “No shit. Stop telling me that,” he muttered. The words disappeared, replaced by the system’s colorful icons, useless save for a few.</p>
<p>He launched the music player, which defaulted to the <em>Trouble Man</em> soundtrack. As soon as the familiar mellow groove of the main theme flowed into the earbuds, he began to relax. Sitting on the couch, he touched the photos icon, chose the collection he’d named “friends &amp; family,” and began to scroll and swipe through memories of the future he’d left behind.</p>
<p>He saw clients he’d met during his work at the VA during the darkest time. People who’d approached him on the street over the years, to thank him and ask to take a selfie. A few formal grip and grins with heads of state and other dignitaries he’d come to know. Photos taken by moms and dads as he held their adorable toddlers. Two second graders gripping his shield and looking at him in wonder as he crouched next to them. All these sparked gentle smiles from him.</p>
<p>The bulk of the pictures were of his comrades, which provoked deeper emotions. The same five over and over in the early years, with occasional cameos of camera-shy government agents. Then the constellation shifted with his allegiances, and as new members joined the group. He noticed again who was the most frequent subject of these candid photo moments, and his heart hurt anew as he contemplated that she was the only one with whom he had serious unfinished business.</p>
<p>It was while he was looking at the last picture he’d snapped of her that the screen went dark and “Life Is a Gamble” cut out in his earbuds.</p>
<p>“Oh no,” he whispered. He stared at the glossy black rectangle, willing it to reanimate. He tried the various buttons but nothing happened. The charge was depleted and could not be restored. At least not here.</p>
<p>His eyes stung and he began to weep.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Small World</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Having returned to 1949, Steve finds himself helplessly looking on as history unfolds; he knows what’s to come but shouldn’t change it, no matter how much he wants to. He cannot even reveal it to Peggy.</p><p>Rating: Teen and Up<br/>Content Note: none</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Steve was still rooted to the spot, hunched over staring at the blank glass with wet eyes, when Peggy appeared, drifting in from the hallway in a silk dressing gown. She noticed that the slim device he held, which he had only occasionally allowed her to look at, was blank.</p><p>“Are you listening to something?” she asked quietly, assuming silence would mean he couldn’t hear her.</p><p>“No. It’s dead.” He didn’t look up.</p><p>She pushed aside the knapsack and sat next to him. “You still stare at it, though it no longer functions,” she observed.</p><p>“I’m not ready to let go yet.”</p><p>He’d mentioned the battery problem before, so she assumed the failure was permanent. “Not ready to let go of the object, or the pictures that are in it?”</p><p>“You know the answer.”</p><p>“You’ve been here almost eight months. What does it say about you, that not having these photographs would be so upsetting?”</p><p>“You’re seriously going to mock me for caring about my friends?”</p><p>“I’m not mocking you at all. I’m pointing out that your obsession bespeaks a lack of . . . commitment. To living here without them.”</p><p>“We shouldn’t argue about this tonight, Peggy. We’re tired, and—”</p><p>“Steve, no. This is exactly when we should be talking. When we’re raw and upset and touchy. If we go to bed now, I’ll get up and go to work in the morning. I’ll square my shoulders, keep a stiff upper lip, remain calm and carry on. You’ll do the same: go to class, do the routine, be responsible and resolute. Tomorrow evening, we’ll feel guilty, we’ll be affectionate, smooth things over. Just as we’ve done a dozen times. Make the best of it, double down on optimism.” As she emphasized the last word, she smacked a fist into her open hand and gave a brilliant and utterly fake smile, making a parody of positivity.</p><p>He took the earbuds out and set them and the phone aside. “Let’s see a winning attitude, soldier,” he said with a ghost of a smile. “And no whining.”</p><p>“Exactly.”</p><p>“All right, I’m game if you are. You want to talk about manipulation some more?”</p><p>“No. I want to talk about why you’re so miserable.”</p><p>“I wouldn’t call it miserable, exactly.”</p><p>“Only because you think calling a spade a spade would be whining. You compare how you’re feeling with the worst you’ve felt, the worst you’ve seen. You’re under a good roof, well fed, clean, warm, and no one is trying to kill you at the moment. How bad can things be?”</p><p>Steve looked over at her and almost chuckled. “You’re a perceptive lady, I gotta admit.”</p><p>“It’s one of the few things I think I do understand about you. Because I’m the same way. Except what I’ve seen isn’t as extreme.”</p><p>“So you’re saying we’ve both been papering over problems. Problems with me.”</p><p>“Neither of us is particularly happy at the moment, I don’t think. Your misery affects both of us.”</p><p>“Sorry.”</p><p>“I don’t mean it as an accusation. The situation has become difficult, there’s no doubt. We’re both having trouble dealing with it. I’ve been thinking about it a lot. The question is, what can we do?”</p><p>“Maybe we just need more time. There are unanticipated adjustments. It’s taking longer than I’d imagined to settle in. I didn’t think through all the eventualities beforehand.”</p><p>“Ah, needing more time. That’s what I thought six months ago, yet as far as I can tell you’re less happy than ever. What are these adjustments, these eventualities?”</p><p>“You really are going to make me talk about this, aren’t you?”</p><p>“Yes. You’re more a ‘suffer in silence’ sort of fellow.”</p><p>“Actually, no. I used to be, but I learned better. In fact I used to facilitate groups for veterans. Where guys, and gals for that matter, who were having trouble coping with tough stuff could open up about it. I believe in talking it out. I’ve seen it work.”</p><p>“Then why haven’t you?”</p><p>“Because it doesn’t work here. There’s no one I can talk to,” he said. “I underestimated the isolation of having to keep myself under wraps. You’re wonderful, but I can’t tell you about my once and future life. It would be dangerous for you to know any details, even general circumstances. It would change your worldview. That could change your responses. That could change the course of history. That could result in very, very bad outcomes.”</p><p>“History,” she said. “I watch you read the <em>Post</em> in the morning. It’s obvious that little of it is news to you. We were all biting our nails about how long we’d have to keep up the Berlin Airlift, but you were blasé.”</p><p>“Well, I haven’t memorized history books, but I remembered it was only going to last about a year before the Soviets lifted the blockade. Wasn’t a surprise.”</p><p>“It’s quite maddening. You know what’s going to happen, and you won’t tell me.”</p><p>“It’s maddening for me too. Peggy, surely you can understand I can’t reveal what’s to come. If you knew, you’d want to head off the negative things, and I’d love for you to do it, but we can’t. We have to let it play out. I’d like nothing better than to warn about the natural disaster, avert the accident, stop the violence. I could go foil an assassination myself, but I shouldn’t. And I won’t.”</p><p>“You’re like an inverse Cassandra. I’d believe you if you told me your prophecies, but you don’t.”</p><p>“A prophet, bound and gagged.”</p><p>She sighed and took his hand. “If you could come to terms with this burden, would it cure your misery?”</p><p>He shook his head. “I want to say yes, but it isn’t that simple.”</p><p>“Having to live under a false identity, disguised—is it that bad?”</p><p>“It’s necessary—too many people would recognize me from the propaganda with my face in it just a few years ago.”</p><p>“Given what will eventually happen with the Steve from my time, being yourself wouldn’t be tenable in the future either. The poor man is still in the wreckage of that plane, and you won’t even tell me how long it will be before he’s found and thawed out.”</p><p>“Revealing to you what happened after the crash was unavoidable, to explain how I got here so you’d believe me. The timing of it . . . I shouldn’t tell you and you really don’t need to know. I’m sorry.”</p><p>Peggy looked resigned, though still unhappy.</p><p>He continued. “Honestly, though—having to be ‘Steve Holden’ isn’t fun, but if that were the only thing, I think I could get used with it. And leading an inconsequential life—that doesn’t bother me much either, at least so far. I’ve had enough drama and notoriety to last me a lifetime, I believe.”</p><p>“So what else is really getting to you?”</p><p>“How to explain?” Steve waved his hands in the air in frustration. “Maybe I can roll several things into one big thing. It’s as though the world here, today, in the year of our Lord 1949, is . . . small. And closed-minded. I’d forgotten, to my discredit, about the social conditions back here.”</p><p>She was puzzled. “What exactly do you mean by social conditions?”</p><p>“I’m no longer used to racial segregation, at least not under the law. Or the way some of those bastards at work act toward you, with no recourse. The queer folks having to hide in the closet. Anybody who doesn’t at least pretend to be Christian, discriminated against. Ugly slurs and open prejudice that’s considered normal. I didn’t like all that before, but I accepted it because that how we were raised, it was the way things were. Are. I see it almost every day, and I can’t push back—at least not very hard, because it would call attention to myself. It galls me no end.”</p><p>“There’s less bigotry in the future?”</p><p>“Yes. Definitely in the circles I run in. Things aren’t perfect in the world, to say the least, but better. All I can do is wait as attitudes evolve, and get pushed, to where I know they will. Until then, I can’t really make friends with people of color, or women, because they are, understandably, suspicious of me when I try. And that makes me sad.”</p><p>“People of color? What do you mean by that?” She thought about asking what he meant by ‘queer folk’ as well, but the subject made her quite uncomfortable so she decided to forgo it.</p><p>“Um, people who aren’t of European descent, people of ethnic minorities here in America. Not considered ‘white.’”</p><p>“I saw in the photos you showed me that you have such friends.”</p><p>“Absolutely. It’s a cliché, but some of my best friends aren’t straight white guys.” Some of my most valued comrades aren’t even from this planet, he thought. He couldn’t tell her that, but it did remind him of a larger point he could make.</p><p>“Here, most people are struggling to have even a global consciousness, and what I’m used to is so much bigger than that. The examples of what I mean, I can’t tell you. They would blow your mind.”</p><p>“Blow . . . what?”</p><p>“Ah, sorry. Idiom from the future. It would seem too outlandish to credit.”</p><p>“Oh.”</p><p>There was a long pause, and he sighed. The sadness she heard in it persuaded her that what she was planning to say was right, no matter how painful the consequences.</p>
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<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Man Out of Time</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Steve was widely regarded as a tragic figure, a man out of time. Now that he has returned to the world he grew up in, to his true love Peggy, all is well. Or is it? Was everyone wrong about that all along?</p><p>Rating: Teen and Up<br/>Content Note: none</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Have you finished what you have to say?” Peggy asked.</p><p>“For the time being,” Steve replied. “You ready to talk?”</p><p>Apparently, she was. She laced her fingers together neatly in her lap. “When you first came back all those months ago, I assumed we would be able to grow together, overcome the years we spent apart. As though you’d been a prisoner of war lately returned. But you’ve just explained how your experience is so divergent from mine. You’ve lived the equivalent of an entire lifetime elsewhere. A very different elsewhere.”</p><p>“We were three years apart when we met. I’m only eleven years older than you now.”</p><p>“It’s not the years, it’s the miles. Yes, eleven years doesn’t seem that long. But for you, it’s most of your adult life. Years packed full of experiences that are so outré you’re convinced I couldn’t comprehend them. Or shouldn’t.”</p><p>Steve began to reply, but a hard look from Peggy told him it was time for him to listen, as she’d listened to him.</p><p>“You’re telling me straight out that I cannot understand you, because I don’t know the circumstances of the future world you came from. And you refuse to talk about those circumstances for reasons that I must accept on faith only. If I don’t understand, I can’t help you ease the pain, nor can you help me in turn. The burdens you bear will become resentments, I’m sure of it. The frustrations become spite. Do you see what I’m saying?”</p><p>“But now that we’re identifying the issues, can’t we work together to solve them?”</p><p>“Pretty words. Did you learn them during your talking cures?”</p><p>He felt a flash of irritation, but he let it slide. Her disdain hurt but truth be told, the phrase had been a bit facile. “Maybe,” he said evenly.</p><p>“I learned during the war, and in my work since: Just because we can see a thing coming doesn’t mean we can stop it. Sometimes we can only cope with a disaster, because there’s no way to avert it. I think that applies to the personal as well, Steve. I don’t see any path for you to be truly happy in a world you regard as small, pass<span>é</span>, old-fashioned.”</p><p>“I wouldn’t say that exactly, but—”</p><p>She raised an eyebrow and he subsided immediately.</p><p>“It’s not old hat to me,” Peggy declared. “This is my world, and to me it’s modern. I regard it as quite big enough. I’m ready to forge ahead, to make it a better place, even to put my own mark on it.”</p><p>“As well you should. But isn’t it my world too?”</p><p>“Not anymore. Why do you think it is?”</p><p>“I was born here, grew up here, worked here. Fought here, fell in love here. Thought I’d died here. When I woke up like a castaway, all I wanted was to go back. I was depressed, confused, isolated. As soon as there was a mechanism available, I put on that timesuit and used it to get back to you.”</p><p>“No, I can’t agree with how you explain yourself,” she responded.</p><p>Steve was taken aback at her flat contradiction, but kept quiet.</p><p>“‘As soon as’ is doing a lot of work there,” Peggy pointed out. “You obviously weren’t isolated and depressed for all those years. You didn’t curl up in the corner of your room like a scared puppy pining for its mother. The people whose pictures are in the silver box—you got out and met all of them. Made the many friends significant enough to you that you cry over them. You certainly didn’t seem to be crippled by grief over what you’d lost from this time. You functioned quite well, took part in the historic operations and missions you’ve alluded to. I would lay very good odds, in fact, that you were actually a leader in those operations. Will you admit that?”</p><p>Admitting it wasn’t a good idea, but she swept him along with her arguments and her will. “Yes.”</p><p>“You don’t become a successful leader without understanding the society where you operate. Obviously you did that, over the course of many years. You adapted.”</p><p>“Intellectually, sure, I figured it out. It’s the psychology of it, the emotional part where I was stuck. I was a man out of time, a man displaced.”</p><p>“Where did you get those phrases?”</p><p>“What do you mean?”</p><p>“They sound awfully pat. A newspaper article, perhaps?”</p><p>“I don’t know, maybe.” He was pretty sure he’d seen them on webpages and in TV news graphics, but he certainly wasn’t going to bring those up. “They seem more apt than pat to me.”</p><p>“At one time they may have been, when you first arrived. But did people repeat them to you? Did you repeat them to yourself? After a decade of life in the new time, why did you believe you still didn’t belong?”</p><p>“I looked to the past more than the future.”</p><p>“I’m sorry, I don’t think that’s actually true. It wouldn’t be possible. Tell me, did you spend any of your workdays studying, furthering your education?”</p><p>“Yeah, I spent a lot of time getting up to speed, and took classes on my own time too.”</p><p>“Training for the job?”</p><p>“Put in lots of hours.”</p><p>“Planning?”</p><p>“Sure.”</p><p>“Managing colleagues, negotiating bureaucracy, navigating the politics of the day?”</p><p>“All of those.”</p><p>“In your leisure hours, did you make an effort to socialize? Learn skills, like cooking? Take in new forms of entertainment with your new friends?”</p><p>“Yes, of course, but—”</p><p>“All those activities are inherently about living in the present and preparing for the future. Did people like you?”</p><p>“Wait, what?” He was seeing Peggy in interrogator mode. Impressive, even a little scary. She reminded him of someone.</p><p>“Do you get along well with people there in the future?” she said distinctly.</p><p>“Yeah, mostly. You know me, I’m reasonably friendly, and easygoing most of the time. There are exceptions.”</p><p>“You wouldn’t be likable if you were moping around, refusing to engage with the modern world. It’s another data point that is not in favor of your argument,” she finished crisply.</p><p>Peggy sighed, and her approach softened. “Here’s my analysis. People got a romanticized view of you when you first appeared. The ‘tragic’ narrative was simple and persisted, year after year. You were a quaint anomaly that didn’t belong. An entertaining, legendary figure. Those assumptions, never updated, stuck with people who didn’t know you, who repeated them back into the popular culture. You took all that on board, and reinforced it to yourself.”</p><p>“You’re saying my self-image, reflected by strangers, didn’t match my reality.”</p><p>“Rather fancy talk, but it seems accurate. Speaking of images, whatever happened to your pocket compass? The one with my picture in it?”</p><p>“Oh, you knew about that.” He pointed to the knapsack. “It’s in my trouser pocket in there. It survived the crash, and I’ve been carrying it ever since.”</p><p>“Do you open it much?”</p><p>“No. I don’t have to, I know what’s inside. Whenever my hand brushes it, it reminds me of you.”</p><p>She shook her head. “If you were using the compass to feed some intractable nostalgia, you’d be looking inside obsessively. You don’t, yet you trained yourself to think about the past every time you touch it. To remind yourself continually that you were, allegedly, a ‘man out of time.’”</p><p>Steve considered. “They featured that phrase in the museum exhibition.”</p><p>Peggy was confused. “Exhibition? About what?”</p><p>“Me. And the commandoes, Project Rebirth, the propaganda and advertising. The whole Captain America phenomenon.” He had to be careful not to mention the film clips of her that had been included. “Pure luck that the show happened to be on when I showed up. They updated it with the new information.” </p><p>“Extraordinary. Did you visit?”</p><p>“Sure. I was curious. They did a nice job, and mostly accurate. But going through it was surreal. I wore a hat pulled down low and nobody looked at me twice. Except one kid, but he was a trooper and didn’t blow my cover.”</p><p>“Did you go more than once?”</p><p>“No, why would I?”</p><p>“If you really pined for the past, why wouldn’t you want to wallow in the old pictures, and stories, and artifacts? It would be the next best thing to a time machine.”</p><p>“Oh, I see. It genuinely never occurred to me to go back to the museum. Lived it, toured it, wrote the curator a nice email, didn’t need to see it again.”</p><p>“Email?”</p><p>He cringed inwardly. “Uh, just a kind of note.”</p><p>“Steve, you’ve poured out your heart about all the things you find difficult about living here. Can you name one thing that you genuinely regard as better than in the world you came from?”</p><p>He prepared to give his standard answers, but her skeptical expression prompted him to examine them before trotting them out.</p><p>First, the culture and entertainment that he said he missed. He had to admit that almost all of it, at least all the best stuff, was available to him in the 2020s if he really wanted it, at the touch of a virtual button. And he’d come to like, often prefer, the vast array of newer offerings that his friends never ceased to recommend.</p><p>Second, he’d always maintained that ‘40s people were nicer, kinder, certainly more polite. But he’d realized, and other viewpoints had reminded him, that the niceness and courtesy was extremely dependent on who one was, and where. Did the easy hospitality in his old Brooklyn neighborhood make up for Jim Crow? The net amount of true kindness was about the same in both eras, he estimated.</p><p>Third, he’d hailed the past’s greater innocence, with patriotic trust in leadership and institutions. Now he was in the midst of that past again, viewing its people, news, and unfiltered conversations with the benefit of hindsight and a lack of rose-colored glasses. The supposed innocence was a charade; the trust genuine for some but largely misplaced.</p><p>He gave up.</p><p>“You know the real answer. It’s that you’re here.” He smiled, rather conspiratorially, but she did not do the same.</p><p>“I was afraid of that,” Peggy said flatly.</p><p>“Why?” he asked. “Isn’t that enough?”</p><p>“I don’t believe so, Steven.”</p><p>“What?” he said, surprised.</p><p>“If there’s no other reason for you to be here, you can’t expect to sustain yourself by relying only on me. It’s not fair, to either of us. There has to be more.”</p><p>“I get that. I can adapt, I’ve done it before. When I’m more comfortable here, I can take solace in other things.”</p><p>“I don’t see it. Because these burdens you bear, they won’t go away. They’re rooted in your being a man out of time, again. And this go-round, you can’t reinvent yourself because there is no ‘new’ here for you. You know our future, and you feel compelled to make sure it remains the same as in your time. It’s like you’re set in stone—no, frozen in ice. Just like the other Steve Rogers in the Arctic. You can’t move.”</p><p>“It sounds like you don’t see a way forward for me, for us. Surely you don’t mean that.”</p><p>“I do. You kept your promise, against all odds. We had the date we made in 1945, our dance. Fulfilled our dream of being together. I wouldn’t have missed it for the world. But living life takes more than a precious moment, or even a honeymoon’s worth of moments.”</p><p>Peggy paused as she mastered her emotions so she could go on with resolve. “Steve, when you arrived here, how well did we really know one another? We had fallen in love years ago, and it felt permanent because of how long we’d carried that torch. Especially you. But there were only hopes and dreams behind it. Not much that was real.”</p><p>He thought of telling her about spotting his photo in her office in 1970, proof that she would carry the torch for decades too. But he shouldn’t reveal that much of her history—well, her future. And the keepsake was now irrelevant. He was here; the hole of absence in their hearts had been filled. Her feelings for him in twenty-odd years would be different from those of the Peggy in his old timeline.</p><p>Steve wanted to object to the way she described their relationship, but deep inside he knew she was right. The edifice of their great love affair was built of comradely admiration, physical attraction, smoldering glances, one kiss, and a lot of wishful thinking. Even if he had survived the war and been with her on VE Day, it would have taken a good deal of luck for it to pan out. The way things had actually happened had stacked the deck against them that much more.</p><p>“We’ve given ‘happily ever after’ a game try, we really have,” she said. “But it was never possible, not under the circumstances.” Peggy contemplated his obvious sadness, steeled herself to disregard her deep attraction to him and say what had to be said.</p><p>“I believe that it’s time for you to leave, Steve. To put on the suit that lets you travel through time and set it to go home. Your real home.”</p><p>The word resonated within his heart, fanned a yearning he’d not wanted to acknowledge. But his mind, and his habits, rebelled against it.</p><p>“You’re saying we should give up?”</p><p>“Yes.”</p><p>Her simple conviction stunned him.</p><p>“Sometimes the better part of valor is discretion, as they say,” she said gently. “Recognizing reality, not our stubborn fantasies.”</p><p>Two responses unfolded inside Steve. One was a cry of objection, a long-cultivated and proud response: never surrender, never give in, do whatever it takes to prevail. The other was an exuberant feeling of release, like an animal sprung from a trap. He didn’t immediately know which was more true.</p><p>Peggy watched the conflict play out on his face. Gently she reminded him, “You can’t un-know what you know. You can’t un-become who you are. You have to accept those facts.”</p><p>“I want to be different. I am actively trying to be other than who I’ve been. I was engineered to be good at fighting and conflict, and I have done my duty well. I’m ready for something new. You’ve just lauded me for how I’ve changed, but somehow I’m stuck now?”</p><p>“The change you’re speaking of is your role, your outer circumstance. That is indeed your choice. But there’s another sort of change: growth, or regression, of your personality, your character. I desperately don’t want you to retreat to an older version of yourself. You shouldn’t want to either, because who you are is magnificent.”</p><p>“You like what you see in me, but you want me to go away?”</p><p>“I see that you are more than even I had dreamed you could be, though the reasons are forever hidden from me.”</p><p>The impulse toward freedom was beginning to win out over his stubbornness, aided by his wife’s relentlessly spot-on arguments. “I could say something similar, Peggy. I want you to become who you were meant to be. If I stay, I can see that might not happen.” With devastating results, he added to himself.</p><p>“I hadn’t thought of that, but I suppose it’s true. I’d wanted nothing more than to be yours, and now I see that might be the furthest thing from my destiny.”</p><p>“So is this the end?” he asked.</p><p>“Yes. An ending doesn’t have to be tragic, though. A thing isn’t beautiful because it lasts.”</p><p>Steve was startled. He’d heard the phrase sixty-six years hence from one of the wisest beings he’d ever met. It was no less true from the lips of his lost love.</p><p>“Do me one favor, Steve. Tell me: Will I ever marry, have a family, or will I be alone?”</p><p>He closed his eyes, wishing fervently she hadn’t asked.</p><p>“Please,” she urged. “It will help me to know, one way or the other. I’ll accept it. I promise I won’t try to force anything.”</p><p>He relented. “Marriage, yes. Children, yes. Please don’t ask me to tell you when.”</p><p>“No, that’s all right. I’ll be lonely for however long I have to be, but this knowledge will give me something to look forward to. Light at the end of the tunnel.” She turned her eyes toward the ceiling as if gazing into the future; whether hers or his wasn’t clear.</p><p>“Over many weeks, I’ve felt you shrinking, like a plant stunted without sunlight,” Peggy said. “You’ve been turning inward, further and further away from me. It was awful, I wanted to reverse it, but we can’t. You’re not mine, and never will be. That’s all right. I trust there’s someone else, someone in your new world who can understand how you became who you are now. Who’s learned and changed alongside you, can meet new challenges with you. But it’s not me.”</p><p>Steve’s mind turned to someone he entertained a faint hope for, who might someday be the partner she foresaw. But that was for another time. Now, it remained to sever the roots he had tried to put down but had never taken hold.</p><p>He took Peggy’s hand. “Thank you.”</p><p>She looked at him archly. “For calling it quits?”</p><p>“For making me talk. For being committed to the truth, not well-meaning deceit. For being clear-headed enough for both of us. Starting us on the path to freedom, even though it hurts right now.”</p><p>The tears she had staved off throughout their talk started to fill her eyes. “It means the world to me that you see . . .”</p><p>“I see your courage and strength, and I honor you for it. Peggy, I can never forget what you’ve done for me. I think you’ve saved my life.”</p><p>“Giving you your life back is what I always wanted.” She smiled wryly, and the teardrops spilled down her cheeks. “Now I’m <em>your</em> hero.”</p><p>He smoothed her hair away from her face. “Yes, you are.”</p><p>She looked up at him and saw he was serious.</p><p>“You did what I couldn’t, and protected me from harm,” he said. “That’s the essence of being a hero, isn’t it?”</p><p>“My dear Steven. I will miss you. The thing that hurt the most after you went down was that you’d been robbed of your life completely, not just what you and I might have had together. Now I know you’ve led a full and fascinating life already, even if it was difficult. I’m happy to help you go on to a better one, one you deserve, where you can be happy.”</p><p>“I’m confident you will be too. No regrets?”</p><p>“Not a one.”</p><p>They embraced, then began to discuss how to untangle him from her life.</p>
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<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Welcome Forever</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Steve returns from the past to present-day Wakanda 2023, where a warm welcome from his helpful hosts belays his anxiety about meeting Natasha again.</p><p>Steve Rogers/Natasha Romanov<br/>Steve Rogers &amp; T'Challa<br/>Shuri</p><p>Rating: Teen and Up<br/>Content Note: none</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Steve materialized on a secure floor of the Wakandan royal palace, in a corner behind a large shrub planted in an earthenware pot. He’d fine-tuned his coordinates after the last time he’d appeared in the timesuit and scared a teenaged page. It didn’t help that during the previous arrival he’d been carrying a limp, unconscious human body. That tended to startle people.</p><p>He set down his small leather suitcase and touched the triggers on the suit and helmet so that they retreated, then stowed the encapsulated versions in the bag. He was back in his own timeline, his own present, and wouldn’t be needing them anytime soon. Perhaps never again, he hoped.</p><p>Walking down a hallway toward Shuri’s palace offices, he heard a confused voice behind him say in English, “Excuse me, may I see your credentials?”</p><p>Steve turned and saw a sturdy young woman in Western-style scrubs. He smiled cordially and was about to answer when she recognized his face. “Ah, Captain Rogers! You have returned as you said you would. Welcome.”</p><p>“Thank you, happy to be here. Have we met?”</p><p>“No, Captain, my name is Sedisi. I am a nurse, and have been assigned to assist your associate Agent Romanov, in fact.”</p><p>“I am pleased to meet you, Nurse Sedisi,” he said with a polite nod. “How is she?”</p><p>“She awakened five days ago and is doing very well.”</p><p>Steve was startled at Natasha’s quick recovery and it must have shown on his face. “It is indeed quite remarkable,” Sedisi confirmed. “She has already been moved back here from the Design Group’s secure medical facility so she will be more comfortable. She is now more guest than patient. Perhaps you will speak with Shuri for a full report?”</p><p>“I was just going to find her, yes.”</p><p>“She is at lunch with his highness but should be returning at any moment. You might wish to meet her in the atrium, she will pass through it on her way back.”</p><p>“Thank you, I will. If you would be so kind, please inform the security team of my return. I’m here under the same protocols as Ms. Romanov: Visitor Classification Seven.”</p><p>Sedisi nodded. “I will go now and let Security know. They will immediately notify all staff with clearance for these floors that you are not here, even if you appear to be. Oh, if you wish I will have your bag taken to your guest apartment.”</p><p>“I have an apartment?”</p><p>“Yes, I was told it was made ready for you right after you left; you had informed us you would return. You should find everything you need there.”</p><p>“The hospitality here is incomparable,” he said wonderingly.</p><p>Steve thanked her and headed to where he hoped to intercept the Wakandan genius. As luck would have it, as he approached the open sunlit space he saw not only Shuri but the king himself, walking his sister back to her domain. They both looked delighted to see him.</p><p>“Captain, welcome once again to Wakanda,” T’Challa said, extending his hand. “I was most distressed that I was not able to meet with you when you were here a week ago.”</p><p>Steve shook the king’s hand and wondered whether to reveal that they shouldn’t call him captain anymore. He quickly decided it was a conversation for another day. “Greetings, your highness. I regret that I was in a great hurry. I should have briefed you and personally requested the assistance of your people yet again. But the princess assured me that I could redeem myself on my return.”</p><p>T’Challa chuckled and Shuri shook Steve’s hand enthusiastically. “When Captain America says he has something pressing to tend to, one does not question it,” she said.</p><p>“You will have to work very hard for your redemption, my friend,” the king said with a grin. “How many times do I have to tell you that you and Agent Romanov may have anything that you desire here, for as long as you need or want?”</p><p>Shuri nodded eagerly. “It is our privilege to be entrusted with Natasha’s care. Especially in recovery from such a unique experience. We could learn much from it. I would like to interview you extensively about how exactly—”</p><p>“My dear sister, please allow the poor man some breathing room,” T’Challa interrupted. “Who knows where he has been and for how long? He may require recovery himself.”</p><p>Shuri rolled her eyes but deferred to her brother with a roguish smile. “You are right as usual, my king.”</p><p>Steve was both gratified and embarrassed by the royal solicitude and aimed to move past it quickly. “I’ve been away several months in the past week, in fact, but fortunately encountered no trouble, at least no violent trouble, where I was. May I ask how well the security around our visits has held up?”</p><p>“Perfectly,” T’Challa said. “As you well know, although we have become much more open, Wakandans have long practice with concealment. We and our staff are happy to accommodate your wish for secrecy. I am confident there have been no breaches from our end.”</p><p>Shuri put in, “We of course monitor both public and private information channels and frequencies, and we have detected no chatter about the whereabouts of either of you.”</p><p>“Excellent,” Steve said with relief.</p><p>“Captain, please excuse me for the moment,” Shuri said. “There are a couple of matters I need to attend to before you and I discuss Natasha’s case. I will see you in my office in a few minutes, yes?”</p><p>Steve assented, and the princess and her brother exchanged a loose and relaxed Wakandan salute before she rushed off.</p><p>T’Challa regarded him with a mixture of compassion and curiosity. “Please have no anxiety about your sojourn here, Captain. Wakanda is forever in your debt, so anything we can do for you is a delight to us.”</p><p>“You are too kind. If there are any debts, they are certainly mutual. Your generosity notwithstanding, I regret that I have to ask you for sanctuary yet again. At least this time I can assure you that we bring no danger to your country. There are other reasons we need to stay off the radar.”</p><p>“We assumed that. Clearly it is not enemies you are hiding from.” T’Challa’s ghost of a smile spoke volumes.</p><p>Steve looked down, faintly alarmed at the king’s perceptiveness. What else did he know? Then another wave of relief washed over him when he realized anew how steadfastly Wakanda and its remarkable ruler were on his side. “It is good to have the assistance of someone with such extensive understanding,” he said carefully. “It is we who are obliged to you.”</p><p>To Steve’s surprise, T’Challa laughed robustly, shaking his head with amusement. “You and I need to get drunk together, Steve Rogers.”</p><p>“What? Why?” he said, bewildered.</p><p>“Your courtesy and caution have deep roots. I appreciate your respect, but I would much rather we become actual friends, not sovereign and diplomat. I believe we could enjoy one another’s company, as well as learn from each other. Especially as you will be staying here for an extended period.”</p><p>“I would be honored to get to know you better, your highness. Why do you believe I’ll be here a long time?”</p><p>“Where else would you go?”</p><p>The blunt question threw Steve off balance for a second, but the man wasn’t wrong. “Well, it’s true that I can think of no better place to be for awhile.”</p><p>“Here, you and Ms. Romanov can remain both safe and comfortable. It is no time for you to be looking over your shoulders, or living outside of civilization. After all that has happened, you deserve a holiday. A vacation.”</p><p>“Thank you, your highness.”</p><p>“There is no one standing close enough to require such formality. Please call me T’Challa.” The king looked at Steve with a sort of amused warning.</p><p>“As you wish. T’Challa it is. No ‘captain,’ either, please. Just Steve from here on out.”</p><p>He looked at the king’s friendly face and felt guilty. He should confess to him, and to Shuri, that he had stolen their replica Captain America shield—although, given the Wakandans’ surveillance capabilities, they might already know and hadn’t told him. The replica had been fashioned in 2016 after T’Challa had met Steve personally. It was a backup in case anything ever happened to the original. The king had offered it to Steve to use in the 2018 battle, but he had declined in favor of gauntlets; he didn’t feel right about using it outside the Captain America persona. Though in truth the offensive capabilities would have been handy. He’d been told the Design Group kept it in secure storage.</p><p>Steve knew he could have had the shield for the asking. He’d used theft via time travel to avoid having to tell anyone what he intended to do with it, and also so that no timeline split could possibly result from the contact. He had gotten a little paranoid about the timeline risks he was taking throughout the replacement of the Infinity Stones—and the other shenanigans he’d chosen to engage in.</p><p>“My sister is eager to speak with you, so I’ll not keep you any longer,” T’Challa said. “I wish you a pleasant afternoon, Steve.”</p><p>“You too.” They shook hands once more. There would be time to fess up in the coming weeks, perhaps during some royal cocktail hour.</p><p>“Good luck,” T’Challa added. He turned and began to walk back toward his offices, and as Steve watched he noted again the king’s impressive dignity, especially for such a young man. A flustered functionary swooped in to speak with him about something apparently urgent, and the king took it in stride, steadying the agitated bureaucrat within moments through his calm words and presence.</p><p>Steve realized that people said similar things about him, but today he wasn’t feeling it. He headed toward Shuri’s realm with ambivalent emotions. His impatience to see Natasha was tempered by dread of the possible outcome of their meeting.</p>
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<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Hi Again</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Natasha and Steve meet for the first time since she was restored to life. They are overjoyed to see one another, but there are undercurrents and shadows—of the past and of the future.</p><p>Rating: Teen and Up<br/>Content Note: none</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Steve closed the intricately carved door of his apartment and stood in the hallway a moment, appreciating the exquisite sanctuary he had been given in the royal palace. He had of course traveled to the Golden City of Birnin Zana before, but always short term. The current digs were far more than a comfortable guest room; the suite contained a fully stocked kitchen and bath and even an extensive wardrobe, from which he had found no item lacking.</p><p>His stealth suit, which he had left at the palace the previous week rather than carry the high-tech item to 1949, had been cleaned and hung in the closet, and his spotless boots were nearby on the floor. Most of the clothing they had given him was of the prevailing Wakandan style, the rest modern European and American. Curious, he’d tried on a pair of jeans and a tunic of locally woven cloth, both of which fit perfectly. Shuri had said that the wardrobe had been sized and tailored according to scans the Design Group had on file.</p><p>He wasn’t terribly surprised at the fact that his exact measurements were a matter of record to the Wakandans. What mystified him was that they had known he would have few belongings throughout his stay, and that they assumed he would be there quite awhile. Hell, he himself hadn’t known until two days ago, when he and Peggy had made the decision that he should leave, that this visit would last more than a few hours. And he hadn’t decided where he would live for the next few months until his conversation with the king an hour ago.</p><p>He should take T’Challa up on the offer of drinks; perhaps the ruler would reveal his sources. Signals intelligence, human intelligence, information from public channels? Or an astonishing ability for prediction from subtle clues and assessments of character?</p><p>Steve had changed back into his own clothes, to present a familiar front to Natasha when he saw her in a few minutes. Though he had been assured that daily medical scans showed that her recovery had progressed spectacularly, no doubt the psychological trauma of the death experience would be weighty. He wanted to approach her as gently as possible.</p><p>Shuri had said that shortly after Nat had awakened, she had asked where he was and been told he had promised to return in one week. She had therefore been confident that he would arrive today. While he conferred with Shuri, her nurse had notified Natasha that Steve would visit this afternoon. It was a time of the day in which the patient was advised to remain indoors and rest, after prudent exercise and a healthy meal.</p><p>He headed down the broad hallway, lined on one side with huge windows, toward its opposite end, where he’d been told her apartment was. As he approached the door, he saw it was open, as if ready to welcome an expected visitor. She wasn’t visible from the doorway. He paused, composing himself. The next conversation might be the most important of his life.</p><p>Before he could knock on the jamb or announce himself, Natasha called from the next room, “Someone there?”</p><p>“It’s me,” he replied, too flustered at the sound of her familiar voice to say his own name. It wouldn’t matter. She knew his voice just as well.</p><p>“Come in. You can close the door.”</p><p>He did so, and she emerged into the room from deeper within the apartment. She wore a blue shift with traditional Wakandan embroidery, casual yet elegant. Her hair shone, its new color complementing her glowing skin. She moved fluidly and looked vibrant, though her face was more serene, or controlled, than he’d seen in several years.</p><p>Nat stopped, smiled gently, and said simply, “Hi.”</p><p>Silent for a moment, she took in the sight of him. He was as handsome as ever, clean-shaven and in casual wear of a bygone era. Standing tall and straight, he generated the characteristic presence that seemed to still even the air around him.</p><p>The sight of her alive and alert hit Steve harder than he’d expected. He stared fascinated at the light sparkling in her eyes. She took a step forward and extended her arms, and his trance broke. He charged in and swept her into a joyful embrace. They clung to one another for about ten seconds, then she made a tiny sound somewhere between a groan and a squeak. He realized he was holding her too tightly.</p><p>Releasing her, he backed off a half step. He didn’t say anything, allowing his expression to apologize for him, knowing she would understand.</p><p>She looked at him with manifest happiness. “Glad you made it.”</p><p>He still couldn’t produce any words, but she read the emotion in his glistening eyes and the way he held her shoulders. He enfolded her again and kissed the top of her head. Finally he looked down into her face and managed to say, in what he hoped was a lighthearted tone, “Glad you made it too.”</p><p>“Thanks to you.”</p><p>“Oh, well, it wasn’t really . . .”</p><p>She raised an eyebrow a fraction of an inch. He knew what she meant, as she had said many times before: Accept gratitude graciously, big guy. She saw in his half smile that her unspoken message was understood, confirmed when he stopped dithering and responded, “You are very welcome.”</p><p>They gazed in comfortable silence at one another a little longer, then he asked, “How are you feeling? Shuri told me they can’t find anything wrong. Are you really OK?”</p><p>She nodded. “Physically I feel perfectly fine. No pain, no problems, right from the time I woke up. The scars in my abdomen even disappeared, and my natural hair color got restored. Mentally, I’m thinking really straight, firing on all cylinders. Emotionally I’m coping well, just lacking a little in pizzazz.”</p><p>“Hopefully you’ll get some soon.”</p><p>“I can feel it coming back, stronger every day. Hey, let’s sit.”</p><p>She led the way to a long bench with a back, not a sofa but the culture’s equivalent, laden with cushions and draped with soft fabrics. She sat first and he stationed himself a few inches away.</p><p>Steve said, “Shuri told me you were briefed on what happened on Earth after, uh—”</p><p>“After I died.”</p><p>He swallowed. “Yeah, that’s not my favorite phrase to have to say.”</p><p>“They haven’t regaled me with all the details, but I know the basic events. It didn’t turn out to be as smooth as we hoped, but you got the job done in the end.”</p><p>“The final battle was the wildest time you could imagine. Wish you could have seen it. Dozens of nations and organizations, even other realms, other planets, sent reinforcements. Losses were substantial, unfortunately, but there was no other way. We needed every one of the thousands who turned up. And then in the end, Tony . . . did what he had to do.” He looked down, and they sat quietly for a moment in memory of their brave friend.</p><p>“I’d had the foreboding that not all of us would get through to the end,” Natasha finally said. “It seemed fated, that someone would have to make a sacrifice play. I didn’t figure it would be Tony, though.”</p><p>“And you.”</p><p>“Does it count if it gets reversed?”</p><p>“It counts.”</p><p>“The first question I asked when I woke up was ‘Did the plan work?’ The second was ‘Who didn’t make it?’”</p><p>“Were you betting on me?”</p><p>“Beforehand I was. You do have a rep, after all. But by the time I asked, after I’d figured out this wasn’t some new phase of the afterlife, I knew it couldn’t be you.”</p><p>“How?”</p><p>“Because I was sure you were the one who came and got me.”</p><p>That stopped Steve cold. Natasha reached out and patted his hand. “You’d be the one to refuse to give up. Especially on me.”</p><p>“Well, that’s you and me both. Can’t let go.”</p><p>She looked down. It was an opportunity to broach a difficult subject—difficult for her, anyway—and get it out of the way. “So, about that. How are things in the good old days?”</p><p>His eyebrows went up. “I don’t remember telling anyone here where I was going.”</p><p>“You told Shuri you had a date. I knew what that meant.”</p><p>“Ah. It’s been awhile, I forget what a perceptive interrogator you are.”</p><p>“Awhile? You don’t look any older. How long have you been gone, your time?”</p><p>“Just short of eight months. You’re not surprised that I went?”</p><p>“Not in the slightest. I figured other uses of a timesuit would occur to you, and you might get it through your thick skull that you deserve a life outside the service. She didn’t shoot you as an imposter, I take it?”</p><p>“No, but I did indeed stare down the barrel of an automatic for a few minutes while I explained myself. And then lifted her DeSoto as another proof of identity.”</p><p>She snorted. “The whole car?”</p><p>“Just the front, actually. Those things are heavy.”</p><p>“What year?”</p><p>“The car, 1947. The actual year, ’49. In DC, before she met her husband. Or was going to meet her husband. Other husband. Well, you get it.”</p><p>Natasha probed for more details to avoid having to congratulate him. She wasn’t ready to dissemble that much yet. She’d noticed, however, that he wasn’t wearing a wedding ring. “I imagine you had to assume an alias.”</p><p>“Yes. Went with ‘Steve Holden.’ Fortunately, in her position Peggy could readily get the documents and establish a backstory that would stick. I took nano-masks with me to change my face a bit, at least for public consumption.”</p><p>“Good plan. You had that stuff on you?”</p><p>“In between returning the stones, I ran a few discreet errands before going back in time.”</p><p>“You stole some shit.”</p><p>He smiled slyly. “Borrowed a few items, long term. If anybody’s missed them, it’ll just have to be a mystery.”</p><p>“Did you let anybody in on what you were planning?”</p><p>“I told Bucky about going back to the old times, but not everything I had in mind. Not about what I was going to try with you.”</p><p>“Shuri said that no one at HQ knows I came back. She told me you directed that no one here let on unless I give the go-ahead.” Natasha looked away, and chose to let her dejection show. “I gotta admit, it hurts that no one else cared to do something about me. At least, get my carcass off that godforsaken planet.”</p><p>Steve sighed. “I know. But please cut them some slack. We had to just keep going once we got the last stone, and it never stopped from there. Then there was Tony.”</p><p>“He stole the show. Again.” She smiled and shook her head at her memories of the colorful genius.</p><p>“Kinda, yeah. He erased an existential threat, and it happened in front of God and everybody, as they say. And when he died as a result, that was out in the open too. Of course none of it would have been possible without what you’d done, on a lonely planet far away. But that’s hard to process in the middle of chaos, and the biggest threat ever.”</p><p>“Oh, I understand the situation. I’ve been the unsung linchpin for many an operation. Just not quite to this extreme.”</p><p>“After the dust settled from the big battle, people didn’t talk much about you; the story was too painful, and there was still so much going on. Digging out from the destruction, and the big funeral Pepper and Happy arranged that took center stage. I’ll admit I avoided the subject of you even when people brought it up.”</p><p>“Why?”</p><p>“It had already occurred to me how to make a rescue attempt, though no one else thought it was possible. I saw that if no one knew about it, the situation would give you an opportunity. A way out of the Avengers, if you wanted, out of the security business, your old life. Of course that would only be relevant in the unlikely event that the op was successful, but here we are. If you do want to go back, it’ll be a bombshell. You can be the one with the high drama for once.”</p><p>“I’ll have to think about it some more. Good thing you were assigned to return the Soul Stone, or was it you who decided who did which?”</p><p>Steve looked sheepish. “Well, actually, I volunteered to put all the stones back so it wasn’t an issue.”</p><p>Natasha blinked at him. “Wait. The team let you do that? They didn’t split the responsibility, and the risk? Did you at least take them one at a time?”</p><p>“No, all at once. Had a nice carry case to keep the radiation contained, and so they wouldn’t touch each other.”</p><p>“The team handed objects, that give the possessor godlike powers, to a single individual who asked for them. To disappear into the timestream completely unsupervised and unchecked?”</p><p>“Yep.” He smiled benignly.</p><p>“Well of course they did.”</p><p>“People do tend to trust me.”</p><p>“What was I thinking? Forget I said anything.”</p><p>He chuckled, and thought about the other powerful object he’d taken with him to return to its rightful place. That was a story for another time, though he relished the thought of her reaction.</p><p>She smiled and took his hand, then grew serious.</p><p>“Tell me,” she said simply, looking into his eyes.</p>
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<a name="section0006"><h2>6. The Soul and the Stone</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Steve returns the Soul Stone (told mostly in flashback), and both he and Natasha live to tell about it.</p><p>Rating: Teen and Up<br/>Content Note: Description of dead body, pain, injury, CPR</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Steve knew what Natasha was asking. He folded her hand more fully into his, preparing to tell the story of her resurrection. “The Soul Stone was the last Infinity Stone I returned,” he began.</p><p>* * *</p><p>When he’d arrived on Vormir, his landing place was behind a boulder close to the pool that served as the stone’s resting place. Clint had briefed him on what he’d learned on planet, and had drawn a map showing the key locations in relation to one another. Bruce had modeled it in 3-D to help set the coordinates accurately. Steve was therefore able to avoid not only the departing Barton but Red Skull, or whatever was left of him.</p><p>The timing was accurate as well; Steve arrived at the exact time Clint was retrieving the stone from the pool. From the shadow of the boulder, he wished he could comfort his comrade, who was completely broken up. But he could only watch. As soon as Clint suited up and disappeared, Steve picked up the stone case and headed for the bottom of the cliff, steeling himself for what he would find.</p><p>It was as disturbing as he had feared. At least she had managed to land face up. Nat’s body was sprawled out fairly naturally—no shocking angles of arms or legs—but if one looked close it was sickeningly flattened underneath. She lay in complete stillness and silence. The expression on her pale, graying face was serene; she had met death with dignity, not terror. Her dulled eyes were open to the stars.</p><p>His first impulse was to protect her eyes, and to hide the deadness in them. He knelt on the gray stone beside her, avoiding where blood had trickled out. He peeled off his gloves and reached out to touch her skin, still soft and pliable. Her beloved face, slackened in death, was cool under his hands as he closed her eyelids.</p><p>It was almost too much. To build a wall against breaking down, he called on every bit of fortitude he had cultivated throughout his life. Try first, cry later, he thought grimly. He straightened his back and forced himself to look at her again. He took a little solace in the fact that her eyes had stayed closed.</p><p>Steve sat on his heels and contemplated the awful scene. The notion that a small shiny rock could somehow reverse the finality of destruction he saw before him seemed ludicrous. He shut his eyes and willed his mind to stop spinning out scenarios of failure. We don’t understand all the ways this stone works, he reminded himself. It wields mysterious forces, directed by some consciousness that compels sacrifice and knows equity. It was one of the six most powerful known objects in the universe; who’s to say it could not restore a soul it had once demanded?</p><p>He breathed deeply a few times and his thoughts quieted. Then his own voice echoed inside his head, directing him in no uncertain terms to remove the stone from the case. Was it the weird planet speaking to him? The stone? His own intuition, heightened by the mythic, melodramatic atmosphere? Whatever it was, he might as well comply; what else was there to do?</p><p>Steve opened the case, put on the radiation-resistant glove he’d left in the empty Power Stone spot, and plucked the Soul Stone from its niche. Holding it lightly in his palm, he heard in his head, “Talk to it about what we’ve done. Request what you want, say why this bargain is just. See all of it in your mind’s eye.”</p><p>He received a distinct impression that the plea should be personal. The consciousness within, or behind, the stone had immense power with a simple focus: on individuals, not abstractions. He contemplated the jewel-like object and thought out what he should say.</p><p>With the stone in his open hand, Steve began to speak, boldly and with as much determination and righteousness as he could project. He held in his mind clear visions of the actions and concepts embedded in his words.</p><p>“This being, Natasha, has just given her life so that you, the Soul Stone, could be taken away from this planet. She is beloved by he who removed the stone, as you require. Her sacrifice was of her own free will, though that is more than was required.</p><p>“I also inform you: Another being who sacrificed a loved one here eventually destroyed you, deliberately, far away. My comrades and I were able to bring you back into existence so that I could bring you home. Justice requires that these actions should be rewarded. We could have kept and used you forever.</p><p>“I ask you to restore this worthy soul to life and health. If this is done, I promise to return you to the waters that are your place of rest.”</p><p>The reverberation of his words in the harsh rocky landscape died away. Silence reigned. As the seconds ticked by, doubt began to creep in. Clint had insisted there was no way to reverse the trade. Steve wondered again if he were fooling himself.</p><p>He wrenched his mind back to the analysis he had already made. Barton’s information was from Red Skull, who set himself out as “keeper” of the stone—but he had been on Vormir less than a century, after all, and the stone was unfathomably ancient. As Steve knew well, Schmidt was damaged, cruel, a megalomaniac and a liar. He’d been delusional on Earth, and given his circumstances for almost eighty years, he could be assumed to be insane. Could Red Skull’s words be trusted? How much did he actually understand the ways of the stone? Had anyone returned the Soul Stone minutes after the victim had been sacrificed? Had anyone rescued the stone from annihilation elsewhere and brought it back? Had anyone tried . . .</p><p>A new idea came to him, again in his own voice inside his head: “Set the stone on the body.” He remembered the importance of proximity for Infinity Stone power.</p><p>Steve could feel heat as he held the stone in his gloved fingers and attempted to place it on Natasha’s abdomen. He failed. It was as though the stone refused to get closer than several inches. Pushing with his considerable strength did no good. When he let go of the stone, hoping that a lack of force was key, it veered off toward the ground. Without thinking he rescued the slipping stone with his left hand. The one with no glove.</p><p>The stone instantly glowed bright gold, shining straight through his palm and fingers. His hand stung and burned; he’d expected ionizing radiation, but this was all of that and more, some primal energy he felt dismembering his flesh and bone at the most basic level.</p><p>He held on because he heard something. Not his own voice speaking, not inside his own head. Deep, massive tones seemed to emanate from the rocks around him, and higher frequencies from the Soul Stone itself. The tones carried information, and demanded information from him.</p><p>The pain grew fiercer, and he enclosed his disintegrating fist with his protected hand. I have to hold on until it understands, he thought. He now knew, somehow, that direct contact was required for direct communication. Setting aside the physical pain, he held steadfastly in the forefront of his mind clear visions of what he believed the Soul Stone needed to know. The enveloping sound penetrated into his brain as though extracting thoughts and images. It probed, and asked without words; he gave, and answered in the same fashion.</p><p>Suddenly the action reversed, and he was presented a mental image and an impulse. He guided his shaking arm over Natasha’s body again, and opened his agonized hand to place the stone on her upper abdomen. It stayed there, strongly glowing, while he sat back and gasped in relief as the pain lessened, along with the ocean of sound.</p><p>The golden glow of the stone spread all over her body, enveloping it in light. There was a buzzing hum, like electricity, and she levitated a few inches. The stone hovered too. Steve heard his voice again in his mind saying that the damage from the fall was being healed. It took a mere half a minute, then the body settled back down with the stone. As they came to rest, a loud rumble with lightning-like flash filled the air, the ground, and even the towering cliff and mountain above them.</p><p>The flash and thunder subsided, the Soul Stone’s glow faded, silence returned, and he knew it was done. Natasha looked normal again. She appeared as though she would open her eyes at any moment.</p><p>* * *</p><p>As Steve told Nat the story in Wakanda, she could tell he was making deliberate choices to leave things out. She allowed him to relate the intense experience in his own way, but there were points on which she planned to press him further.</p><p>“The process, the event, the ritual—whatever you want to call it—was awe-inspiring, miraculous,” Steve said. “Except that . . .”</p><p>“Except what?”</p><p>“You weren’t breathing. I waited almost a minute, and nothing else happened. No more messages. I couldn’t stand it another moment. I put the stone back into the case and started rescue breaths—only the second time I’ve ever used our CPR training. After three, I wondered whether I should try chest compressions, but then you gasped and took in air. Your heart restarted too. I was relieved, to say the least.”</p><p>They were silent for several seconds until Natasha said slowly, “You’re a damned good friend, Rogers.”</p><p>He said nothing, looking at her intently but with a wan smile. Usually she could read him easily, and he allowed her to, but right now she wasn’t sure what lay behind his expression. Maybe she was just off her game.</p><p>Steve continued. “I spoke to you again, but you were deeply unconscious. No surprise, given what you’d been through. I touched the trigger on your timesuit and it expanded and covered you up properly. I turned your helmet on too, slung you over my shoulder, and went back to the pool. After replacing the stone I picked up my bags and headed us straight here. That’s about all there is to tell.”</p><p>“That’s all, huh? The speech you gave to the stone sounded good. Did you write it down?”</p><p>“No, but I think what I told you is accurate. It gets kind of mixed up with the telepathic communication part though.”</p><p>She sighed. “Liar, liar, pants on fire. Steve, you’re telling me how I was brought back from the dead. I think the situation calls for more radical honesty than that.”</p><p>“What do you want to know?” She’s going to ask me exactly what I don’t want to tell her, he thought.</p><p>“I noticed some handwaving about what deal you made with the Soul Stone. Especially what you told it through telepathy.”</p><p>Bingo. “Thoughts and pictures are kind of vague.”</p><p>“No they aren’t. You just said the stone is very specific. Be straight: Did you offer to trade another life for mine?”</p><p>She was too good. Death and revival had clearly not dulled her edge. He gave up on deflection. “It was wavering, taking awhile to decide, it seemed. So I visualized a soul trade as a possibility. To push it back toward saying yes if it were inclined to say no.”</p><p>“I thought we didn’t trade lives.”</p><p>“We try not to, but sometimes there’s no other way.”</p><p>“Which life?”</p><p>“The only one I have a right to offer.”</p><p>“Oh God, Steve. Did you make that deal?” Her heart felt like it had dropped into her guts.</p><p>“Obviously not, since I’m here. Fortunately the stone was . . . reasonable.”</p><p>“You could be lying. You could have promised you’d come back after getting me out of there.”</p><p>“Why would it have believed that I’d keep that promise?”</p><p>“It trusted you to put it back in the pond after restoring me. Everybody trusts you. Even sentient stones.”</p><p>“I admit, I figured I could set coordinates and send you home alone if need be, as long as your timesuit still worked. I had extra particles with me. Fortunately, the stone seemed to be satisfied with what we’d done for it. If a stone can be satisfied. I don’t fully understand what the hell happened, to be honest.”</p><p>Natasha breathed easier. If the stone had demanded a replacement sacrifice, it likely would have insisted on it right then and there. She was confident now that she’d gotten the truth out of him. At least about that part.</p><p>“I’m really, really glad the Soul Stone came down on the side of truth, justice, and the American way. Dammit, Steve, did you even think how I’d feel if I’d woken up in Wakanda and found out I was sent here alone from Vormir? I’d have known something very bad had happened to you.”</p><p>“You wouldn’t be sure. At least you’d be, you know, alive. That’s what matters.”</p><p>“And as soon as I could get it together I would have gone to that goddamn bizarro world and tried to trade back.”</p><p>“Sort of a round robin sacrifice swap? Clint, then you, then me, then you.”</p><p>Natasha was astonished. “That was a dark joke worthy of me. I’m impressed.”</p><p>“It’s a joke because it wouldn’t work. You wouldn’t have possession of the Soul Stone to trade, like I did. It’s chilling in its creepy pond. We’re even with the stone now. Nobody owes anything, no leverage.”</p><p>“You’re right. I’m even more glad you came back with me.”</p><p>Filled with gratitude and amazement, she bowed her head. She leaned forward until it touched his chest, while she reached out and gripped both his hands hard. He put his head down near hers, and they luxuriated in being alive, and with a friend who understood how precious that was.</p>
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<a name="section0007"><h2>7. The Beyond</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Steve describes the aftermath of holding an Infinity Stone, he and Nat discuss the Self-Sacrificing Suicide Society, and Natasha relates what she experienced while her body lay lifeless.</p><p>Rating: Teen and Up<br/>Content Note: suicide, near death experience, pain, injury</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Natasha sat up straight again and looked at the face of the man who had returned her to life, and to Earth. After hearing the story of her own revival, what could she say next? She decided to continue to hold Steve’s feet to the fire about the truth of what happened in the aftermath.</p><p>“You said the stone burned your hand,” she said with concern. “How bad was it?”</p><p>“I didn’t have to hold it very long, and I’m fairly resistant to radiation. My regeneration ability retards the damage.”</p><p>He was clearly minimizing the pain and injury he had endured, but she looked down at his left hand as she held it; it seemed unscathed. She squeezed it briefly before letting go.</p><p>“It was a good thing it was you. I’d lay odds a normal human wouldn’t have been able to hold the stone long enough.”</p><p>Steve was diffident. “Maybe not. The stones are hard on a person. Bruce sustained significant injury when he performed the snap to bring everybody back, but he’s OK.”</p><p>Natasha nodded. “I figured it would have to be him. Another heroic act overshadowed by the final showdown, but I imagine he doesn’t really care. I’m very glad he survived. And thankful he’d been able to combine his mind with Hulk strength to make it all possible.”</p><p>“He told me he tried to bring you back with the whole set of stones, but it was no go.”</p><p>“I’m glad to know that. Now let’s reverse your smooth deflection and go back to what I was asking about—you. You’d already planned to come to Wakanda if you were able to rescue me?”</p><p>“Yes. They have the best medical technology, for one thing.”</p><p>“Did they help with your hand?”</p><p>She’s not going to let it go, Steve thought. He sighed and gave in again to radical honesty. “Yes. It was bad at first. On Vormir I put the protective glove on as soon as I didn’t need it for the stone, to keep the hand from getting contaminated. And so I didn’t leave bits of cooked flesh on things, including you.”</p><p>“Ew.”</p><p>“Hey, you insisted on hearing about this.”</p><p>“Touché.”</p><p>“They debrided and cleaned it up here, but what I needed was time to heal without being in a distracting amount of pain all the time. Painkillers don’t work well for me.”</p><p>“Like booze?”</p><p>“Basically, yeah. I have to take massive doses or my body processes them out before they can do me much good. I need an IV, or full anesthesia, for chemical pain relief. Fortunately the Wakandans put in a nerve block I could remove in 1949 without medical equipment—I turned it off with a special magnet. The hand was fully healed in about a week, maybe ten days. A long time for me.”</p><p>“It was definitely a good call to come here. They’ve been wonderfully kind as always. The royal family grants us huge respect. And I very much appreciate that you made sure I can choose my own path out of here.”</p><p>“I thought you would. I wanted you to be . . .” Steve felt a pang in his chest suddenly, and looked away from her eyes so he wouldn’t choke up. “Free.”</p><p>“In a way that you weren’t when you woke up.” Natasha was surprised at herself—she hadn’t intended to say this. Impulse control was maybe not quite up to snuff yet.</p><p>He was surprised too. “I hadn’t thought of it that way, but you’re right. It occurs to me that you and I are part of a very small club now.”</p><p>“The Self-Sacrificing Suicide Society?”</p><p>He chuckled. “Good name. Our clique is even more exclusive. The Second Chance Division.”</p><p>“Ah, the part of the suicide society that’s actually alive.”</p><p>“Glad to have another member. Meetings were pretty lonely.”</p><p>“Like the past several days here.”</p><p>Steve was alarmed. “Did they not keep you company?”</p><p>“I’m just whining. They were lovely, I had as much company as I wanted. But it’s not the same as talking with someone who understands. Really understands.”</p><p>“I get it. I don’t know if I’m totally qualified, though. You and I had the same experience of choosing to take the ultimate hit, and going through with it. But I was never actually dead. Some sort of cold-storage stasis instead. I don’t remember anything from being in that state. I just woke up in the future.” He paused, unsure whether he should fear to tread further. “What do you remember?”</p><p>Natasha looked at him frankly. “Easy to describe what I saw, harder to describe how I felt. It was uneventful, to be honest. I didn’t see any of the classics: no tunnels of light, no dead family come to greet me, no religious visions. I was out amongst the stars, or so it seemed, floating around the galaxy. In silence. Not ominous silence, but a kind that seemed to hold all sounds within it. Everything within it. I could say the experience was peaceful, and it was, but that sounds boring. It wasn’t boring at all. It was . . .” Her eyesight suddenly blurred, and she struggled to finish. “Bliss.”</p><p>Steve put his other hand over hers. “Are you sorry to come back?”</p><p>“No. I’m happy to be here. It’s good to know, though, that death is underrated. At least the part I experienced.”</p><p>She faintly smiled through the tears. “There didn’t seem to be any time passing. I guess it was only a few minutes I was gone, but it might have been years. I remember that at some point I stopped floating around. I seemed to be caught in gravity, gently drawn downward. Then my vision faded to black again.</p><p>“I don’t remember anything else before I woke—wait. I do remember one thing. Not a sight, but a sound, through the darkness. Something sweet, unbearably sweet.” She closed her eyes to concentrate. “It’s hard to recall exactly, like a dream. Oh. It’s coming back to me. I can almost hear it now. A voice, saying my name.” Astonished, she opened her eyes and looked at Steve. “It was yours. Did you call me?”</p><p>“Twice. I begged you to breathe. And tried to awaken you.”</p><p>She leaned forward and hugged him, and he put his arms around her. It was a moment out of time as they held one another. He felt the trailing edge of the bliss she had invoked.</p><p>The transcendence steadied her, left her prepared to face the rest of their conversation and its inevitable heartache. She anticipated the sadness to come, but she was now certain that nothing could break their bond as friends and comrades. Not even their final separation.</p>
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<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Past as Prologue</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Steve explains to Natasha what life was like in 1949, and what went wrong.</p><p>Rating: Teen and Up<br/>Content Note: passing mentions of torture, racism, and sexism</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Natasha sat back and looked at Steve. As the warmth of their embrace faded, she swallowed hard and resolved to forge ahead. “I’m glad you came back—or, I guess, forward—to see me. I was afraid you wouldn’t,” she said.</p><p>“You really thought so?” he asked, surprised. “You know I’m good at keeping promises. I did assume it’d take at least several days for you to recover, or I would have made it sooner.”</p><p>“I guess they couldn’t call and tell you I was up and about.”</p><p>“Not hardly.”</p><p>There was an awkward pause. “So, after she put the gun down, things went well?”</p><p>“Yeah. A dream come true, as it were, for us both. I moved in but it had to be on the down low, would have been downright scandalous back then. Got married by a JP as soon as we could get the license. Fortunately, given her background and position, Peggy’s family and coworkers are primed for her to do secretive things, like suddenly marry a fiancé that she hadn’t told them about. They all bought it with little suspicion, fortunately. I haven’t actually met any family members; their being in England is helpful.”</p><p>“Don’t you want to meet them?”</p><p>“It’s best to keep my interactions to a minimum, especially ones that will reflect back on Peggy. I’ve disrupted that new timeline enough by just being there with her. Changing anything is a risk. Events need to develop so all the assets to oppose Thanos are in place when he shows up in their future.” </p><p>“Oh. I hadn’t thought of that.”</p><p>“I wish I had thought of it sooner.”</p><p>“Could these personal things really derail the future that badly?”</p><p>“It’s very possible. Peggy isn’t a store clerk in Iowa or something. Her worldview, her attitudes, her decisions will matter a lot in the world. She’s going to establish the organization that our team grew—will grow—out of. But I obviously can’t tell her that. It would affect what she does, the very thing I’m trying to avert. So she thinks I’m too cautious, maybe paranoid.”</p><p>“Yeah, I see what you mean. You also can’t tell her about world events that are coming down the pike. Like, Stalin dies in ’53, but you shouldn’t give her a heads up or it might change how the US government reacts.”</p><p>He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, gratified that she understood the concept immediately. “Yes. You get it. Guess what starts next year? The Korean War. And I can’t say a damn thing.”</p><p>“Whoa. That’s heavy. Seems like this will be kind of pervasive in your life.”</p><p>“Unfortunately. It was a one in fourteen million chance that we beat Thanos, according to Dr. Strange. I can’t take any risk in this new timeline that would change that course of events for them, even an iota. And I can’t confide in her what those existentially bad things are, or even when they’ll happen. There’s no way she wouldn’t act on it, even if only subconsciously.”</p><p>“That’s tough. I guess you avoid hanging out with her fellow agents, so that you don’t influence them either? You could make bank on sports bets, though. Find out who wins the 1950 World Series before you go back.”</p><p>“Already did. Yankees.” He smiled, but it faded quickly. “I do as little socializing as possible. It’s exhausting to monitor what I say, how I talk. I assumed it would be easy to pick up the idioms and the rhythm again, but I didn’t remember how different the language was then. I’m always on guard against modern slang, and anachronisms—can’t mention electronics or a hundred other inventions or events. No moon landing, no 9/11, no Battle of New York. No adding ‘-gate’ to scandals. All the pop-culture references I finally learned, now I try to forget. And I have to stop myself from swearing too much.”</p><p>“OK, that’s funny.”</p><p>He smiled at the irony, but it was soon replaced by a frown. “You asked about Peggy’s colleagues. I’m happy to avoid them. Some treat her like shit, and most of the rest think they treat her well but are incredibly condescending. I can’t do anything about it. Neither can she.” His jaw had clenched.</p><p>“Speaking of her associates,” he continued, “I’ve managed to avoid Stark, but that can’t continue forever. Meeting him will be flat spooky because I know how he and Maria die, even though it’s decades in the future. I can’t warn him—not that he’d believe it—because if something different occurs, it will affect their son’s development. That timeline needs Tony to be just how he is, who he is. Will be.”</p><p>“True. That’s rough.”</p><p>“Plus, I didn’t consider all the implications of running into someone I knew before. Howard’s a perceptive guy. The face disguise will throw him off, but I sound the same. I have the photostatic veil type that include a voice disguiser and should already have used it. Now it will be weird if I change Steve Holden’s voice for people he’s talked to over the past several months. No matter what I do, Stark will find me oddly familiar and that’s the last thing I want. He’s too curious.”</p><p>Steve broke off suddenly, and calmed himself with the thought that these apprehensions were now moot, because he had removed himself from that world. It was clear, though, that he needed to decompress from the stresses of the past months. And telling Nat how difficult things were would help her understand the decision he’d come to.</p><p>Natasha saw only that he was uncharacteristically anxious—or at least allowing himself to show it. She felt for him and tried to lighten the subject. “Do you have a job? Something you like?”</p><p>“I enrolled in an off-brand art school, which is OK. The teachers aren’t exactly inspiring but I’m learning different skills than the place I attended before the war. I enjoy the time at the drawing board. I’ve booked a few illustration projects, but she’s the breadwinner, which is fine. I do most of the chores, and the cooking.”</p><p>“Makes sense, you’ve gotten to be a good cook.”</p><p>“Peggy would rather have more mundane meals, actually—a couple times a week I do “normal dinner” to make her happy, pot roast, that kind of thing. But fresh, interesting food is a comfort to me and she’s been getting used to it. I almost had to make my own wok, ended up paying a Chinese restaurant way too much for one. I also underestimated how hard it is to get things like galangal and serranos in 1949 in DC.”</p><p>He smiled, but it was brittle, at odds with the undercurrent of frustration she’d just seen. An element of a brave front.</p><p>“Sound like that wasn’t the only thing you underestimated.”</p><p>He winced, and she felt bad for stating a truth too baldly. “Sorry, I didn’t mean—”</p><p>“You’re absolutely right,” he said, shaking his head. “It’s been a struggle. For both of us.”</p><p>“If I may continue to be frank: it sounds like your world has shrunk. A lot.”</p><p>Steve’s mouth gaped open. “That’s exactly the analogy I used to explain this to Peggy. A narrow, closed world.”</p><p>“In which you’re forced to play a tiny role.”</p><p>“It’s not so much my own life being constrained; I can get used to being ordinary. Even more ordinary than average.”</p><p>“I find that hard to believe, buddy. Been a long time since you’ve been anywhere in the same zip code as ordinary.”</p><p>“I remember. I could adapt. The bigger problem is having a whole different scale of perception than the people back there. In our time, we’ve fought extraterrestrial forces, communicated via orbiting satellites, used a worldwide computer network, found out the Norse gods are actually sort of real; we even count one as a friend. You and I have visited other planets, once in a spaceship piloted by a sapient raccoon, and traveled through time. That’s just for starters. No one in the old world could accept or understand all of those concepts, except maybe crazy people.”</p><p>“And if you did talk about it, you’d be regarded as one of those crazies.”</p><p>“You know it. Of course the people of Peggy’s time aren’t stupid or bad, no more than I was when that world was mine. They’ll come to understand, step by step as history unfolds and they see new realities. But I can’t not know what I know.”</p><p>“I feel ya.”</p><p>“I’m weighed down by the history I’m essentially forbidden to talk about. And it’s depressing to live in a society that I absolutely know doesn’t have to be so unfair to so many. I mean, things aren’t great for a lot of folks today but at least I could advocate for what’s right, and I can’t in the past. I have to keep my mouth shut.”</p><p>Steve, usually so calm and collected, was as agitated as she’d ever seen him. She was about to try to soothe him when he started talking again. Given his usual quiet, she knew he needed to get this off his chest.</p><p>“Look at my three closest friends. I can’t talk about you or Sam or Bucky in the past, not properly. The responses would make me want to smack them. If I told a story about a woman friend, I’d hear, ‘Oh, why do you bother to talk to dames anyhow, how can you trust some dizzy skirt to have your back, am I right fellas?’ A black friend? ‘Well that’s just not done, you know those people are lazy cowards, would you let him date your daughter?’ And my friend who is the ‘right’ gender and the ‘right’ color, in 1949 he’s closely associated with Steve Rogers and also supposedly dead. I shouldn’t mention him to anyone.”</p><p>She blinked at him. “Oh God. Bucky’s there. Another Bucky.”</p><p>He grimaced. “Yeah. Imprisoned by evil bastards who are brainwashing him and experimenting on him, and about to put him on ice. I can’t do a goddamn thing about it. Even though I could figure out where he is and bust him out, I have to let them torture him. In that timeline, we’ll need him just the way he’ll be when they send him out in several decades to kill Howard, and then later attack Nick and future Steve.”</p><p>“And shoot me. That me.”</p><p>“Yeah. This me would probably be dead by then anyway. No doubt glad of it.”</p><p>They sat in silence as he calmed down from his rant. Steve was appalled at how much he had dumped on Nat, who had enough emotional turmoil to deal with. Clearly he had bottled up more than he’d realized, having no one to confide in back in the old days. “Sorry,” he whispered.</p><p>“It’s all right,” Natasha said. “I have to admit, I’m shocked by how unhappy you seem. I think you’ve said the words ‘I can’t’ more times in this conversation than you have in all the years I’ve known you. Have the two of you figured out any way to make it better?”</p><p>“We did have a serious talk and made a plan to change things.”</p><p>“Ah, good. You should give it a pithy name, that’s always fun. Operation New Direction or something.”</p><p>“Operation Surrender, basically.”</p><p>“Uh, not too inspiring. What do you mean by that?”</p><p>“Exactly what it sounds like. It’s over. I’m not going back.”</p><p>Steve watched her intently to gauge how she would take this announcement.</p><p>Natasha’s eyes widened. “Wow. That’s hard to believe. You’re really staying here, in this present?”</p><p>“Yes. For good.”</p><p>“I’m not sure how I feel about that,” she hedged, stalling for time as she processed the news.</p><p>“Did you think you were rid of me?” He tried to match her trademark joking tone, but it came out with an edge of lament.</p><p>“Don’t be silly. Being with her was what you’d always wanted, and the only way to do that is to live in the past. When I heard you were keeping your date, I was happy for you even though I’d miss you.” Understatement of the year, she thought. Of several years.</p><p>“We gave it the old college try, and we have no regrets about that. It was lovely at first. But we finally had to admit the situation wasn’t sustainable. We had no way, at least no ethical way, to change the basic circumstances, the limitations. The heavy hand of history, all the frustrations I just described, would poison our relationship. We could see it starting after only a few months. And it was she who understood how much I had changed. She recognized I was never going to be at home there, not anymore.”</p><p>“Smart lady.”</p><p>“I’ve always been drawn to smart ladies. Even scary ones.”</p><p>He smiled faintly with a twinkle in his eye. Natasha wondered how much of the remark was a joke.</p><p>“Peggy pinpointed my big mistake: I thought I didn’t belong in the 21st century. But I do. I made my place here years ago, I was just constantly talking myself out of it.”</p><p>“You didn’t consider her coming with you instead?”</p><p>“Oh no. Even if she wanted to, which I doubt she would, it would completely upend the progress of that other timeline to remove her from their history. We might have been consigning billions to Thanos’s permanent oblivion.”</p><p>“Yeah, scratch that idea.”</p><p>“It may be a tough row to hoe, at least for now, but we’re convinced that each of us will be happier in the long run.”</p><p>“I’m glad you can look at it that way. I’m sorry that fate made you lose your true love.”</p><p>“My first love. Not my last,” he said with conviction.</p>
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<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Time Marches On</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Steve and Natasha discuss what he’s planning to do now that he’s done living in the past. He reveals that he’s passed on his role to Sam and explains why the Avengers now think he’s an old man.</p><p>Rating: Teen and Up<br/>Content Note: none</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Natasha nodded and looked away, unable to respond for a moment. What did Steve really mean, that Peggy wasn’t his last love? Was there subtext? She was probably trying to read to much into it, she decided.</p><p>“Well,” she managed to say, “is poor Steve Holden going to die of a mysterious illness? Accident? Crime?”</p><p>“He’s going to abandon her, leaving behind a confessional letter so she can get a genuine divorce,” Steve explained. “Slightly scandalous but she won’t have to involve colleagues—she’d need the document boys’ help for a fake death certificate. They were on board, without too many questions, for the birth cert and DL. A death cert is another can of worms altogether, especially with no body.”</p><p>“Good choice. So, Holden packed his bags and landed in Wakanda. When does Rogers show up at Avengers HQ?”</p><p>“He doesn’t. Holden stays here, at least for awhile. Rogers is otherwise occupied.”</p><p>“Meaning what?”</p><p>“One of the errands I ran before heading for 1949 complicates my going back to the US. On purpose.”</p><p>“Do tell.”</p><p>“OK, here goes. I bounced around a lot in time, getting items I needed for my personal objectives in between replacing stones. One of the early trips was to bag a bunch of Pym particles from his lab. It helped that I’d been there before so I was able to get in and out without encountering anyone. I picked a day in 1971 and it was a lucky call, he had plenty. Dunno why we didn’t think of that before the time heist, but hindsight is 20/20.</p><p>“If you want, later I can tell you all I did and where I got everything, but for now I’ll keep it simple,” Steve continued. “Another stop was DC in 2014. I took street clothes and some other stuff from my apartment. Then I launched a covert op like you might devise. I liberated electrostatic veils from the SHIELD equipment locker—remembered my old access codes. I set a full upper body one that includes the voice disguiser to show me as myself, but very old with a matching voice. I suited up and went back to present day, outside the temporary headquarters, a couple of minutes before I’d left with the stones. Not right at the machine but far enough away in the woods so no one could see me, including myself.</p><p>“I stowed the timesuit, put on the veil, and went to a bench near where everyone was. They were all staring at the time apparatus waiting for me to come back. No one noticed a thing. I knew Bucky would eventually point me out. This was the part I’d clued him in on beforehand.”</p><p>“I see where this is going.”</p><p>“Maybe I’ll surprise you. Buck alerted Sam and they came over to me. From my vague statements, Sam made assumptions about what happened, all the ones I wanted him to. Aided by my wearing a wedding ring I’d bought beforehand.”</p><p>“Bought? Why?” Natasha said innocently.</p><p>“I thought it would be bad luck to steal a set of wedding rings. And, you know, immoral.”</p><p>“Oh, right.”</p><p>“One of the goals of the operation was to make it clear to the team that I was off the roster. Unavailable. If I’d genuinely come to check in after living in a new timeline since the late ’40s, I’d have been well over a hundred years old.”</p><p>“The functional equivalent of faking your death but less harsh on your friends.”</p><p>“You got it. I shook Sam’s hand but didn’t hug him. I was sad about that, but he would have felt someone larger than a frail old man if I’d let him.”</p><p>“Did you take off then before they could suspect anything?”</p><p>“Not yet. The second objective was to ask Sam to take over as captain.”</p><p>“Holy shit! You can’t do that!” Natasha was appalled.</p><p>“Why not?”</p><p>“There has to be a vote or something.”</p><p>“There was never a vote in the first place. It was kind of engineered by Nick, and kind of just happened.”</p><p>“Because you were obviously the one. You’ll always be obviously the one.”</p><p>“At some point I’d buy the farm or get too old. I merely accelerated the process. Captain is a dirty job but somebody’s got to do it.”</p><p>She still looked disgruntled, but conceded, “Sam will make a fine team leader. Captain Falcon does have a nice ring to it.”</p><p>“Wrong name. He won’t just lead the Avengers. I passed on the shield to him.”</p><p>“What? Oh, no. That is not OK.”</p><p>“I’ve put down the shield before, why can’t I do it again?”</p><p>“That was different. Even you can’t just dub someone ‘Captain America.’”</p><p>“Why not? It’s not a person, it’s a persona,” he insisted. “Doesn’t have to retire, or die, with me. I was the first one, shouldn’t be the last. But I do argue that I deserve a say in who takes over.”</p><p>“He won’t be accepted. By the team, yes, but not the population.”</p><p>“I don’t believe that. They’ll get used to him, especially after he does some more heroing. The world needs someone to fill that role and he’s right for it. He has the brains, the background, skills, training, attitude—and most important, a fine moral compass. He’s a good man.”</p><p>“He doesn’t have any enhancements. Why wouldn’t Bucky be a better choice?”</p><p>“He may be faster and stronger than Sam, but Bucky isn’t interested in being a leader, or a symbol. And people would find it harder to look up to him given his past, unfair as that might be. He’ll be at Sam’s side though. No better wingman, and friend.”</p><p>“Sam agreed?”</p><p>“He was hesitant, but my confidence in him meant a lot. He said he’d do his best, and I know he will. He’s got plenty of superpowered people to back him up. What ‘Cap’ really needs is integrity and leadership ability, and I have no doubts on that score.”</p><p>“Well, I guess we’ll see how it plays out. How’d you get out of there?”</p><p>“I said there were other errands to run, and I didn’t have much time. I looked so old they likely thought I had a bucket list, last wishes to take care of. I told them not to follow me and wandered off into the woods. None of them had the chutzpah to ignore old Cap’s orders. I went to my stash, put on the stealth suit and the timesuit, grabbed my bags and went.” His next stop had been Vormir, but he decided not to include that detail.</p><p>“Any report from the States about how they’re taking all this? About Sam, and your escape to the past slash retirement?”</p><p>“Shuri told me today there’s not been a whisper about it yet, nothing public. It’s only been a week. I imagine they’re getting their ducks in a row before making any announcement.”</p><p>“No doubt. A lot of people will be unhappy. It’s hard for me to imagine anyone bearing that shield but you, and I’m far from the only one.”</p><p>To her surprise, he grinned. “About the shield—I had to steal it. That was another trip.”</p><p>“What? Why?”</p><p>“Thanos hacked mine up during the Battle of Earth. Only half of it’s left; a museum artifact now. ”</p><p>“No kidding? I didn’t think that was possible.”</p><p>“Right? It was terrifying to watch vibranium splinter, especially when it was the only thing between me and him.”</p><p>“Yeah, I’m sure you fled in panic.”</p><p>“Fortunately the cavalry came riding in and saved my ass, along with everybody else’s. Through glowing time portals.”</p><p>“Wow, did anybody get video?”</p><p>“I really doubt it. Maybe Parker did, but we were all kind of busy.”</p><p>“Parker?”</p><p>“Peter. You remember, the Spider-Man kid. He was a big help.”</p><p>“Anyhow, where’d you get the replacement—oh, no. Tell me you didn’t take the one they kept for you here.”</p><p>Steve was abashed. “I did. I could have asked them to make another one, but I didn’t want to tell anyone why, or wait. It wasn’t in use so I took it. I feel bad because the Wakandans were the first to come to our aid against Thanos during the battle. Kind of rude to rip them off, even if I’m confident they’ll forgive me.”</p><p>“They realize it’s gone?”</p><p>“I don’t think so—I took it from contemporary times, functionally about eight days ago, so it probably hasn’t been missed. I’ll tell them tomorrow.” He sighed. “This time travel shit is complicated.”</p><p>“Gotta say I’m feeling good about it right now, however.”</p><p>“Oh, I definitely agree. Gives us options, sometimes great ones. As I learned the hard way, though, you really have to think things through before monkeying around in time. But I was able to give Sam an intact shield.”</p><p>“And now you’ve come back around, so he’ll want to return it,” Natasha said. The more she thought about the situation, the more disturbed she became. “You know, you’ve screwed the pooch big time with your fancy operation, Rogers.”</p><p>“Wait, I don’t—”</p><p>“When will your big reveal be? ‘Sorry everybody, I’m not old after all; I finally got the girl but things didn’t work out, so I’m back. The guy everybody trusts with the fate of the universe lied. Whoopsie!’”</p><p>“That’s not fair, Romanov,” Steve said sternly. “I intended to live my life exactly the way I let them think. I only faked the visit because I figured I should hedge my bets. What if something happened to me during all those decades and I didn’t actually make it to the present day? A bad accident, or I just dropped dead for some unforeseen reason? It was a significant risk. I’d have left everybody hanging, and that would be unkind.”</p><p>“You could have written a note, you know. Sent out an email. Was that too simple a solution?”</p><p>“Too abstract. Sam needed to get the shield from me personally or he might have refused it. And I wanted to leave an indelible impression that I was done being an Avenger. With just a letter asserting it, some wishful thinking might have ensued.”</p><p>Steve looked her straight in the eye. “I want to be clear. I don’t plan to take anything back. My retirement is no lie. If I showed up again, yeah, Sam would think that I should be ‘Cap.’ He needs to be free to inhabit that role fully. I’m going underground to get a life, as I told Bucky and implied to everyone else. It’ll just be in the present world, not the past.”</p><p>His explanation made sense to Nat, and her unease about his actions subsided. “No more time-monkeying?”</p><p>“Nope. I’d planned to come see you and say goodbye. I wasn’t going to miss that chance, not again. Now, I’m not returning to the past. One less trip than I’d envisioned.”</p><p>“You’ve done the seeing me part. Are we now saying goodbye?” She found herself holding her breath.</p><p>He looked down at the floor, then raised his eyes only, giving him a puppydog look. “Not necessarily.”</p><p>Natasha breathed easier. “You don’t want to be by yourself at the annual convention of the Four-S Second Chance Division?”</p><p>“Some company would be nice. And meetings could be more frequent.”</p><p>“Ooh, we need a slogan if this is going to be a thing.” She drew her hand through the air as though reading a banner: “We crash airplanes and throw ourselves off cliffs, all for you! And we even live to tell about it!”</p><p>Steve doubled over laughing, and it melted Natasha’s heart. He took life seriously, for excellent reasons, and his demeanor was dimmed further by an almost constant undercurrent of sadness. He had a fine sense of humor but it tended toward the wry chuckle and the bon mot. She’d always counted as victories the times she was able to get him to heartily laugh, or full-on smile. It made her feel all was right with the world.</p><p>He came up for air, still wearing a grin that was a thing of beauty. “You can see the humor in everything. Absolutely everything,” he said, shaking his head in wonder.</p><p>“Maybe that’s my superpower.”</p><p>“A mighty one it is.”</p><p>The way he was looking at her made her smile delightedly as well. That pizzazz is coming back, she thought. But in a moment something she had previously noticed surfaced into her mind, and she asked about it.</p><p>“You said you have stolen goods with you, but I don’t see ‘em.”</p><p>“Nothing escapes you, Romanov.”</p><p>“It’s my job to notice things.”</p><p>“My stuff is in my suitcase in the suite down the hall.”</p><p>“You hauled a suitcase through multiple time jumps?”</p><p>“A few of them. I ended up with change of clothes, earbuds, a dead charger, the nerve block magnet, some leftover Pym particles, two nano-masks and two full-torso electrostatic veils.”</p><p>“What are the extra disguisers for?”</p><p>“You, if you want them.”</p><p>“Thanks. Might take you up on that.”</p><p>“No rush. Think it over.”</p><p>“Is the suitcase the only baggage you have? What’s in your darling khaki pockets?”</p><p>“A depleted cellphone, a pocketknife, fifteen bucks, and the key to a gym that’s been demolished for sixty years. I forgot to give it back.”</p><p>“Did you pay someone to let you use their boxing gym after hours?”</p><p>“Yep. Out of my illustration income. I stick with the classics to work out my frustrations.”</p><p>“Nick told me you did that when you first woke up. It was OK then, people knew who you were. You didn’t have to worry about someone catching you using a loaded barbell as a dumbbell.”</p><p>“Or putting my foot through a punching bag. No, I was careful to make sure I wasn’t seen. Didn’t want to lose my go-to coping mechanism.”</p><p>“Speaking of go-to’s, you forgot to list your compass in the pocket inventory.”</p><p>“Didn’t bring it.”</p><p>She goggled at him. “You’re kidding. You’re never without it, even on a mission.”</p><p>“Peggy pointed out that it keeps me oriented to the past. I took that to heart. It’s on her desk with my wedding ring inside.”</p><p>“Wow. Heavy-duty symbolism.”</p><p>“Indeed. I figure that leaving it behind means I’m confident I can find my own direction.”</p><p>“Deep. So, where to?”</p><p>“Today, where I need to be is right here.”</p><p>“Tomorrow?”</p><p>“That depends on a lot of things.”</p><p>“Such as?”</p><p>“Your answers to some questions. If you’re willing to give them.” He regarded her with trepidation.</p><p>Sounds a little ominous, Natasha thought. She continued on the lighthearted tack. Batting her eyelashes, she said, “You know I’m an open book to you, Rogers.”</p><p>She was rewarded with another hearty laugh. “You are an excellent liar. And hilarious.” His smile faded and he began to fidget.</p><p>Here comes the moment of truth, Steve thought. He would rather face down an elevator full of commandos than embark on this conversation, but it had to be done.</p>
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<a name="section0010"><h2>10. ABFD</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Steve comes clean about his real feelings for Natasha and poses a question.</p><p>Rating: Teen and Up<br/>Content Note: one F bomb</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Can I tell you a story?” Steve said softly.</p><p>“I’d like nothing better,” Natasha replied.</p><p>Looking down at his restless hands, he said, “For a long time, I’ve felt more for you than I thought I should. Tried to ignore it, with varying amounts of success over the years. Been moments when I wanted to tell you, but I held back. There was always something in the way. Duty, ethics, you trying to get a life, me trying to get a life. Some mission, some tragedy, some reason or other. Every time, I thought, ‘Not now. Maybe later. Someday.’</p><p>“I was devastated when Clint came back without you. For some reason I’d feared it, a premonition even, so I wasn’t as surprised as I might have been. That helped me keep it together in front of everybody, but later, not so much.”</p><p>He glanced at her to impress upon himself that she was indeed there, alive and well. He couldn’t look her in the eye, however. He wasn’t ready to face her possible reaction to what he’d said.</p><p>“Before the time heist, I hadn’t actually considered using the time machine to return to the ’40s. I’d been focused on the upcoming mission, what time travel could do for us all, not for me. On an unplanned side trip to 1970 during the heist, I saw Peggy, and she had an old picture of me on her office desk. That really tugged at my heartstrings. The thought occurred to me that it was now possible to go to her. When I was on my way back to the present, though, I was so eager to see you again that the notion dissolved.</p><p>“Then we all were standing in our circle after returning, except for you. You were gone, irrevocably. Dead. There could never be a ‘someday’ for us. Something broke inside me at that moment. And I realized you were my strongest tie to the future.</p><p>“I’d thought over the years about what might happen after—if—we got past Thanos. When we could leave the world’s problems to the newer team members. They wouldn’t need us so much anymore. Surely future threats would be lesser than what we’d faced, and we could move on. We could ‘come home’ from the long war we’d been fighting, even if it was on our doorstep.</p><p>“I wondered how your life would change if suspicion, danger, violence were no longer part of your daily existence. Or at best always on the horizon. You’d already come so far since I’d known you. What would it be like if you could experience peace? I wanted, deeply wanted, to see you shine. I had great expectations for you, more than I did for myself.”</p><p>Nat had an impulse to reach for his hand again, but something told her to wait.</p><p>“I also had a thought, more of a faint hope, that maybe we could both get a better, fuller life. Maybe our friendship, which meant so much, might have a chance to become something more.”</p><p>Steve closed his eyes tight for a moment, still fearing how she might feel about his admission. Natasha’s heart skipped a beat.</p><p>“Then your life was cut short. Your future cut off. In some ways, so was mine.” He swallowed hard and continued, gazing off into the middle distance of his memories.</p><p>“During the little down time we had after that, I would think about you, and I’d think about her. I formed the beginnings of a plan to go make that date from 1945. As well as a plan to reclaim your remains, so your final resting place would be on Earth. My ideas fed each other. Without you in the world, why should I stay? If we were successful in reversing the snap, there would be plenty of ‘remarkable people’ to do my job. Once I honored my fallen comrade, why not use the time travel I was already doing to try to be happy for once?</p><p>“Obviously, my plans required that the world survive the endgame. That didn’t look too likely for awhile. I put all my focus into the herculean effort to not die and not let everybody else die. We pulled it off, together.</p><p>“I went right back to planning, except with a twist. Thor had pointed out how little we understand the mystery of the Infinity Stones, and I thought a lot about that. I allowed myself to hope that there was a bare possibility of bringing you back alive. I couldn’t count on that sliver of a chance, but I also couldn’t not try. Couldn’t give up.</p><p>“I confided in Bucky, with some creative omissions, about returning to the past. I pretended that I’d live my way through the years, then use the suit to come over from the other timeline with the shield for Sam, showing up right after I left with the stones. I said, truthfully, that I’d attempt to retrieve your body when I replaced the Soul Stone. I told him exactly where I would leave you, inside the temporary headquarters. If he didn’t find you there, that meant I hadn’t been able to do it. I kept the rescue attempt to myself, and you know why.</p><p>“I set off on my last missions, and I’ve told what happened with you. What I haven’t talked about yet was how torn I was when I brought you here. I was set to execute the plan I’d made to leave, but that sliver of a chance for you had come through. I had to decide whether to keep the date with Peggy, or stay. Find out if there was any possibility of a future for you and me.”</p><p>He still wouldn’t look at her.</p><p>“I decided to go before you woke up. First reason was the odds. I was certain she would welcome me. I was convinced that the life with her I’d dreamed of was a lock, a safe bet. Clearly I wasn’t thinking too straight about all the consequences. On the other hand, I didn’t know whether you would have the slightest interest in attempting something, you know, romantic with me.</p><p>“I might have stayed to ask, but everyone thought you’d be out of commission for awhile, and we weren’t sure about your state of mind when you woke up. The medical team wanted me to stay until my hand healed. I realized I couldn’t. If I sat by your bedside for a week, and especially if I were here when you awakened, I knew I wouldn’t have had the heart to leave you. If I was going to go, I needed to do it right away.</p><p>“The best reason for me to return to the past was that I wasn’t sure it was right to stay. I had gone to some lengths to make sure you were free of the Avengers, if you wanted. If you did, wouldn’t it be lousy if I hung around, a vestige of your old life? You might feel obligated to be with me, out of kindness, maybe gratitude. Wouldn’t it be a better gift if you became truly free, including from me?</p><p>“So I went. And it was great, until it wasn’t, and then it really wasn’t. The night I lost it because my phone finally failed and I couldn’t see the photos anymore, especially the ones of you—that was the night my life there completely fell apart. But it needed to.</p><p>“That’s my story, the short version. I know it’s unkind of me to bring this up so early in your recovery. You have enough to deal with. But I feel compelled to get it out in the open before you make a decision about where you want to go from here. I wanted you to have all possible freedom, but I’ll admit it—I’m not able to stand on my principles and let you go without . . . asking.”</p><p>Steve took a shuddering breath, then paused a long time, as though he couldn’t get the next words out.</p><p>“Asking what?” Natasha prompted gently, trying to rein in her racing heart.</p><p>“Whether you would, maybe, be open to becoming more than friends. To letting something grow between us, if it’s right. To possibly being together, someday.”</p><p>With a trembling hand Steve reached out to hers, touching just her little finger. He summoned the courage to look her in the eye. Relieved that she didn’t seem upset, he found it hard to read what she was feeling. It could have been surprise. “I don’t expect an answer today, or anytime soon,” he said. “No pressure. We’re perfect just being friends. I’m planning to stay here at the palace awhile, but I can leave if you’d rather. Or if you want to take off, it’s up to you, and I’ll help you if you need it.”</p><p>“I, um. Thanks,” Natasha stammered.</p><p>“There’s a lot for you to consider. You could go back to the US. Once they get over the dramatic reveal, you can command the team, no question.”</p><p>“You just anointed a new leader.”</p><p>“In your absence. You were presumed dead at the time. Captain Wilson would gladly take a back seat to you. Bruce is the only other original Avenger alive, on planet, and unretired, and he’s got no skills in that arena. If you did have any interest in, uh, being with me, that would complicate matters. I’m going to stay off grid, let everybody continue to assume I’m an ancient man in another timeline, so it would be a long-distance thing or not at all.”</p><p>“Yeah, well,” she managed to say, head swimming. “As you said, a lot to consider.”</p><p>“I’ll be OK, no matter what,” he assured her. “I’m committed to living a real life in the here and now, to building a new future. Whether for myself or maybe even for us. Whatever happens, I wanted you to know that I . . . care for you very much.”</p><p>Steve sat back, folded his hands in his lap, and breathed deep. He’d gotten through showing his heart to her without feeling humiliated. He had stopped short of saying the L word, worried she would find it too much, too soon. What he had revealed was enough. Now he would wait, however long it took, for her to decide what she wanted.</p><p>Natasha felt lightheaded, to the point that she wondered whether something in her brain had gone wrong. After all, she’d experienced fatal trauma and extensive repair. As the sensation spread down from her head, she realized it was no symptom, simply the effects of an emotion: an almost surreal joy. She couldn’t let her conscious mind completely take in what he’d said, or she might have been too dazzled to articulate a response, but her subconscious self seemed to be celebrating.</p><p>“Well,” she began. “That was a big fuckin’ deal.”</p><p>He laughed in surprise, and a smile lingered. “Uh, yeah.”</p><p>“I appreciate that you’re not pushing for my answer. But actually, I’m ready to go ahead and talk about you and me. If you want.”</p><p>“I’m listening.”</p><p>“It’s a long story. Could be a rough go. Are you really up for it?”</p><p>“Absolutely. I could do this all day.” Though Steve felt raw and vulnerable, he was glad he wouldn’t be left in uncertainty. Better to get it over with.</p>
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<a name="section0011"><h2>11. Destiny's Pawns</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>After hearing Steve’s confession, Natasha begins to reveal how she has felt about him and the team over the years, and they contemplate how fate has ordered their lives.</p><p>Rating: Teen and Up<br/>Content Note: mention of injury</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Natasha settled back into the cushions. “The first time we met, I was very attracted to you.”</p><p>That scored another short laugh from Steve. “Coulda fooled me. Oh wait, you did.”</p><p>“One clue was that I was less cordial than I should have been to a new team member.”</p><p>“You were rather curt.”</p><p>“I kept the interaction short and deadpan, hoping no one would catch me gawking at the hot new guy. AKA the hot old guy. I’d seen pictures and film of you, of course, but they didn’t do you justice.”</p><p>“Come on,” he scoffed.</p><p>“And then, you greeted me with succinct courtesy and proceeded to treat me as a security professional.”</p><p>“Sexy.”</p><p>“You better believe it. You looked me in the eye without making it a dominance thing, and refrained from checking me out, or you were admirably discreet. Know how rare that is? You immediately moved up to the most beautiful man ever.”</p><p>“No one ever called me quick on the uptake when it comes to romance.”</p><p>“If you’d noticed I fancied you, I wouldn’t have been doing my job. SHIELD didn’t pay me to wear my heart on my sleeve. Speaking of which, I also adored your sweet retro threads.”</p><p>“Um. Like these?” He plucked at his plaid collar.</p><p>“I believe you wore that very shirt. Swoon.”</p><p>“The truth comes out. The way to Nat’s heart is through the closet.”</p><p>“Seriously. Even that first day, I felt something different around you. Your presence. Reassuring, I’d call it. Commands attention, including mine. First I chalked it up to lust, but I figured out there was more than animal magnetism happening. I considered coming on to you. I’m glad I held off, out of some developing moral sense.”</p><p>Steve was puzzled. “But you got with Bruce.”</p><p>“A coworker relationship may not be the smartest idea but I could argue it’s not unethical. It became obvious very quickly that you wouldn’t be just another colleague, but our leader. Bad idea for the CO to be shagging one of us.”</p><p>Natasha saw in his face that this particular stretch of memory lane made him uncomfortable. She moved on.</p><p>“We trained together, fought space beasts and robots and thugs together, managed to have some good conversations along the way. As I got to know you, it became clear you wouldn’t have taken me up on an affair anyway. If my ethics were stunted, yours were a mighty oak or something. I set those thoughts and desires aside. I was impressed by your leadership, and outside the job you were supportive and kind, set the right tone. I fell deeply in like.”</p><p>“Me too. I always felt comfortable with you, even when I wasn’t sure whether I should fully trust you, which was an odd reaction. Like you said, something about your presence.”</p><p>“Things got more intense when Nick was assassinated. Sort of. Hey, he essentially came back from the dead, should he be in the club?”</p><p>“Nope. Don’t forget the first two S’s. He didn’t volunteer to get shot.”</p><p>“Roger that. Anyhow, around the utter madness of us going on the run, there were a lot of emotional bombshells. You saved my life, I saved your secrets, we found out who really had our backs, I got us out of some tough situations, you decided to trust me, and we helped destroy an entire agency, three warships, and a large building. Little stuff like that. Somewhere in there you kissed me. Or I kissed you, not entirely sure how it went down.”</p><p>“Well, it was for operational purposes. But yeah, the whole episode was definitely a bonding experience.”</p><p>“After the big fireworks, Sam and I sat by your hospital bed in shifts. I don’t know if you even remember I was there. Seeing you badly injured—broken by the fall, beaten, shot, stabbed, nearly drowned—was hard to take. Knowing how and why you got that way made it even worse. Especially because you always seemed so invincible.”</p><p>“Sorry to disappoint.”</p><p>“You know that’s not what I mean. My heart went out to you. I realized I cared what happened to you way more than I should for a colleague, someone who’s in danger as part of the job.”</p><p>“You can’t stop yourself feeling the pain when a friend goes down, fellow soldier or no.”</p><p>“I could. My original training was different than yours.”</p><p>“True.”</p><p>“You got better fast, but caring so much freaked me out. When I said I needed to get away and figure out a new cover, it wasn’t just for practical reasons. I felt myself falling toward you, like your gravity was pulling me in. I had to escape and try to get my head on straight about a lot of things, including you.</p><p>“I thought I’d gotten it together when I returned. I’d realized that Bruce had an eye for me, and I was always fascinated by him. We’re kindred spirits in an odd way, despite our spectacular differences, so I pursued him. There was an ulterior motive I refused to recognize: feeling for him fortified me against feeling anything more for you. The relationship with Bruce was too shaky to work out for long, and but when he disappeared it was hard.”</p><p>“I had hopes for you guys. I encouraged him because I wanted to see you happy. And, if you were in a solid relationship, I thought I could set aside my attraction to you more easily. A door would be closed.”</p><p>“I get it. Why do you think I was always trying to find you a date?”</p><p>Steve blinked. “I thought you were being a buddy. My winglady.”</p><p>“I was. However, my motives quite often are layered.”</p><p>“Interesting that you never suggested Sharon.”</p><p>“Not sure why I didn’t, I could tell she was sweet on you. For some reason I never saw it working. But you did at least try with her.”</p><p>“Yeah, I really liked her. Still do. It seemed like a good idea. The chemistry just wasn’t there, though.”</p><p>“It’s a mysterious thing, that energy between people,” Natasha said. “Either it exists or it doesn’t; you can cultivate it, but you can’t will it.”</p><p>They looked at each other, and the moment expanded. He felt a warmth, almost a burning inside his chest. Was Nat feeling anything like it? If she were, she didn’t let on. She continued her story.</p><p>“When the Sokovia Accords came up, I thought I should embrace civilian oversight. I wanted to prove I was honest, responsible, to show I was secretive and deceptive only to serve the group’s missions. I was surprised when you were so against signing. We’ve talked this over before, but I didn’t tell you my subtexts. I was super relieved when you let me comfort you after the funeral. It showed that you wouldn’t let the agreement—our disagreement about the agreement—come between us.”</p><p>“Your position was thoughtful,” he replied. “Not a knee-jerk reaction like some. Even though we didn’t see eye to eye on the issue, or on what to do after the bombing, all the respect was still there. Then you saw what the consequences could be of yielding our control, when the Siberian mission was dismissed. So you changed your mind.”</p><p>“That’s what I told you when we debriefed. It was true, but a rationalization. I have been known to switch sides in the middle of a fight because I decided it was a smart idea. Not that one. I wouldn’t have made up my mind so fast, because I was deeply conflicted about what was right. Truth is, coming over to your side wasn’t an intellectual process. I just came to a point where I could no longer act to oppose you, especially not directly. I realized that if there was something you were completely convinced was right, to the point of putting yourself on the line for it, I would believe in that too. I’d support you no matter what. So I did.”</p><p>Steve frowned. “That loyalty sounds too blind. Dangerous attitude.”</p><p>“I know,” Natasha said with a sigh. “Once I got a little time and space, I followed some advice I’d heard from Sam: If you find yourself on the opposite side from Cap, that’s a sign you need to reevaluate your position. I did that, and fortunately my mind came down on the same side my gut had. But I had to recognize that in the heat of the moment it was really you, your gravity, that swayed me, pulled me in. I’d thought I had a handle on my emotions. Realizing my tie to you was still that strong was disturbing.”</p><p>“Disturbed or not, you stuck with our side when we needed you.”</p><p>“Wasn’t long before those sides became meaningless.” They were somber as they remembered the long darkness after Thanos’s initial victory.</p><p>“I should have stuck with you better during that time,” Steve said. “I mostly left you with the burden of leadership. Keeping the concept of the Avengers alive and the remnants connected, not giving up on finding Clint. I never properly thanked you. I acknowledged you later to the team, but it was after you were gone.”</p><p>“It’s all right,” Natasha assured him. “You were doing good things for ordinary people, and taking care of yourself in the way you deserved. You could have totally checked out and I wouldn’t have blamed you. But you didn’t. I was focusing on keeping hope alive, working on keeping myself sane in my own way. There was a bright side for me. No one had ever trusted me in an actual leader role, ever believed I could handle it. You did. That meant so much to me. I missed having you around more, though.”</p><p>“There were many times back then that I wanted to open up to you—well, like this,” he said. “We were sort of marooned in a world in shock, in sorrow. Why not try to salvage some happiness? But I always stopped myself, because in a backwards way it seemed like giving up. If we’d gotten together it would have been tacit acknowledgment the team was over, we didn’t need to care about cohesion, ethical concerns no longer mattered. That all hope was lost. I didn’t feel I could do that. So I stayed away. It removed the temptation to reach out to you for comfort. But that robbed you of the presence of a friend, when you needed it. I’m sorry.”</p><p>“Don’t play woulda coulda shoulda, Steve. No need to apologize. Never forget what Strange said.”</p><p>“What part?”</p><p>“There was only a single path to victory, and it was the path we chose, each of us our own part. If you and I had been a couple back then, it would have affected operations, right?”</p><p>He nodded. “Yeah. The way team members responded to us, especially newer ones. How decisions got made. Would I have tried to keep you on Earth rather than sending you for the Soul Stone? If not, how devastating would it have been when you didn’t come back? I was barely functional as it was.”</p><p>“Any of those things might well have doomed the mission. It had to happen the way it did,” Nat insisted. “We had to make the choices that we made, including the ones we question. I mean, look further back—you had to go down with the plane in 1945 even though there might have been other options. Because we needed you to get stuck up there and then return decades later, ready to serve. Otherwise, everything couldn’t have worked out the way it did against the ultimate threat.”</p><p>“Whoa, yeah.” Steve contemplated the idea: What appeared to be the great tragedy of his life had actually been a key to the world’s future, and to his own within it. “You could argue all our paths were orchestrated so that we came together at the right time, with the right backgrounds. Even the splits among us, the traumas, what looked like terrible mistakes, they were necessary. There was only one path that would lead us through, lead everyone through, to the other side.”</p><p>“It’s like some force was protecting the Earth’s destiny. And ours,” Natasha said.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thanks to those who've left kudos and komments, I really appreciate them! I'm working on the next chapter but it's being a bit stubborn. At some point I'll give up wrestling with it and post... I'd started out figuring there were 10 chapters in this phase of the story, but that number has crept up as things get long and I split it up -- trying to keep word count around 2000 or less per chapter. These two crazy kids like to talk.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. When It Came Right Down to It</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Natasha reveals her experience of falling from the cliff on Vormir, somebody says the L word, and she and Steve face a truth.</p><p>Rating: Teen and Up<br/>Content Note: Description of death experience, one F bomb</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Seems as though that part of the story is finished,” Steve concluded. “It feels like it’s time for a new chapter. A different kind of destiny.”</p><p>“Yes,” Natasha agreed. “Before we get to that, though, there’s one last part of my story to tell. Will you indulge me for a few more minutes?”</p><p>“I would indulge you forever.”</p><p>“Shouldn’t take that long. The end of the tale only lasts about thirteen seconds.”</p><p>“How much of a story can you pack into thirteen seconds?” he asked.</p><p>“When you’re falling five hundred meters off a cliff, it seems like a long time.”</p><p>His eyes widened. “You remember?”</p><p>“Every meter. I went into some sort of altered state; it seemed to be happening in slow motion. Seconds passed but it felt like minutes. I’d heard that your whole life is supposed to flash before your eyes when you know you’re going to die. Did that happen to you? When the plane went down?”</p><p>“No. Probably because I was talking with Peggy right up to the crash, then got knocked unconscious immediately.”</p><p>“It never happened to me before either, though I’ve been damned close to getting my ticket punched. But this time, I saw it. Not the whole thing—I’ve had a fairly eventful life, there would be a lot to cram in. I got a condensed version, I guess. The greatest hits, before the greatest hit.”</p><p>Steve marveled at how calm and even cavalier she was in recalling her last moments. “You sure you want to talk about this? Now? You don’t have to.”</p><p>“I need to.”</p><p>He braced himself; this was surely going to be a hard thing to hear. “What parts did you see?”</p><p>She looked him square in the eye for several moments before she spoke. “Mostly, the ones with you.”</p><p>“What?” He was stunned. “Are you serious?”</p><p>“Yes, sir. From your first ‘Ma’am’ to my last ‘See you in a minute.’ And everything in between.”</p><p>“Oh my God. Nat.” Shock began to drain color from his face.</p><p>“I saw some episodes from when I was young. I believe they’re genuine memories, because they came forth in that moment. And the big turning points and traumas of my life, all the way to the final fight with Clint. For the rest, the Steve filter was on.</p><p>“I watched us fight together, talk together, laugh together. The smiles, the smartass remarks, the glances between us that didn’t need words. Times you saved my bacon, and times I did the same for you. Every hug we shared, and the one ridiculous kiss I’ve thought of every day since. The images flew by fast, but crystal clear. Especially the longest one. The final one.”</p><p>Natasha leaned in and took Steve’s hands in both of hers. “Those last few seconds, I saw your face. Your eyes, calm and bright. Assuring me, after all was said and done, that someone in this cold universe truly saw me. And loved me. I saw your eyes, steady on mine. Promising that everything was going to be all right.”</p><p>Tears began to blur his vision, but her eyes were clear as she finished her story.</p><p>“The years of setting aside my deepest feelings for you, rationalizing them, burying them—all that vanished, when it came right down to it. In my final moments, I understood how much I love you.”</p><p>The last revelation of her life had been revealed in turn. Words she thought she would never say to anyone, could never say to him, were out in the open. She watched him take it in, awestruck. “Natasha,” Steve whispered. “You . . . I . . .”</p><p>She leaned forward and kissed him lightly on the lips, telling him there was no need for more words right then. Steve knew now the gift he had been to her, during her life and into her death. She knew now the dreams he had held for them. They both knew how fantastically fortunate they were to have the chance for more.</p><p>He took her in his arms again, carefully, as though she were fragile, and she twined her arms around his waist. Their heads bowed, side by side, temple to temple, reveling in their mere presence together, in silence. They relaxed into the contact, made sweeter by the thought that it could go on as long as they wished. Little by little, both regained their composure. With a sigh, she finally sat back and wiped her face with her wrist to dry her cooling tears. He did the same with a sleeve.</p><p>Steve put a hand lightly on her shoulder with an expression of concern. “Nat, I want to be clear,” he said earnestly. “On the whole ‘Are you open to a relationship’ question. Does this mean your answer might be yes?” he asked, with a twinkle in his eye and the ghost of a smile.</p><p>Natasha broke into a grin. “I’ll tell you right now, Rogers: My answer is not only yes, you big sap, but hell yes. With chocolate fucking sprinkles on top.”</p><p>She’d just told Steve she loved him and was ready to pursue a serious relationship with him. Statements that two weeks ago she’d have insisted were impossible. The bold proclamation gave Natasha a rush, like she’d crashed through a window and escaped an explosion without a scratch. She’d done it, she’d said the thing that scared her most, and had gotten away with it. The thrill made her laugh out loud, unselfconsciously, joyously.</p><p>Though his heart was in his throat, Steve wore his habitual half-smile. Then, catching Nat’s exhilaration, it widened across his face, brilliantly. He felt the warm energy that had been burning in his chest expand as well, as if it would take over his whole being. He looked happier than she had ever seen him.</p><p>“You have the most beautiful smile in the world,” Natasha announced. “I want to see it every day.”</p><p>“I believe I can oblige, ma’am. If I can hear you laugh like that every day.”</p><p>“I can, if you help me out.”</p><p>Steve paused. He had a strong impulse about what to say next, though it felt too weighty now after their joking had changed the atmosphere. It was a declaration before and beyond romance, over and above sweetness and affection. He felt compelled to say it nonetheless, deliberately and with utter conviction.</p><p>“I would do anything for you.”</p><p>He wasn’t teasing anymore. The gravity of his words almost frightened her. A paragon of strength and integrity pledging his devotion to her unworthy self. How could she possibly respond?</p><p>With nothing but the truth. “And I would do anything for you.”</p><p>Clear-eyed, they looked at each other, hearts full. When it came right down to it, they needed nothing else.</p><p>The moment of truth unwound, but there was a tenderness in the air both were unwilling to disrupt. They had confessed deep feelings for one another, but defaulting to a kiss, and whatever might follow, somehow didn’t seem right. Not yet. Steve imagined there was more to be revealed, more to be faced, before that should happen. Too much history, too much baggage, too much hurt swirled in their pasts for the way forward to be anything but an emotional minefield. He didn’t know precisely how to proceed and suspected Natasha didn’t either.</p><p>He was right. Though she had no clue what to do, she followed her instincts to lean in closer to him, the better to feel his warmth and calming energy. He put an arm around her, and they waited for inspiration. For now, it was enough.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>This chapter was surprisingly tough to finish; it wasn't the serious parts but the lighter ones that twisted me up. Now, I'm declaring it done. Thanks for waiting. Excelsior!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. Past Present Future</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Natasha and Steve struggle with the guilt and fears that could torpedo their future. With great power and great responsibility come great regrets. Is love enough, in the face of the ghosts of the past?</p><p>Rating: Teen and Up<br/>Content Note: Sexual themes, passing mention of torture and suicide, description of PTSD, two F bombs</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>They still talk and think a lot, but at least in this chapter they make it out of the apartment… Next chapter has some cute little action, I promise!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“This conversation has been . . . intense,” Natasha said, exhaling a deep breath.</p><p>Steve glanced toward the window at the front of the apartment, which opened onto the brightly sunlit hallway. “And long. We need to come up for air at some point, and I think that point is now. We could go for a walk outside.”</p><p>“How delightfully ordinary. Pedestrian, even.”</p><p>“We could go over to the—wait. Dammit, we have to make sure we’re secure first.” His shoulders tensed as the practicalities of their current situation came back into awareness. “Need to let the guards know where we’re going, set the nano masks and fit them.”</p><p>“Skip it—we can go to the roof instead,” Natasha suggested. “The terrace is part of the secure area, and the views are great. I ate lunch up there a couple of days ago.”</p><p>He nodded and they rose and stretched. She grabbed a glass bottle of water from the kitchen counter and slid on some sandals. They headed out the door and down the huge deserted hallway toward a steep, high-tech escalator. It was frozen in time until their approach triggered it to continue its perpetual journey upward.</p><p>Natasha got on first and Steve stood behind her one step down, leaving their heads at about the same level. As it bore them toward the rooftop, he leaned forward until they were almost touching. Despite his clear intuition that they needed to take it slow, something primal drew him to her, hoping for another, better, escalator kiss.</p><p>She remained facing forward and he felt her body tense up, though she said nothing. He leaned back feeling a little hurt, but realized it was for the best. With the passionate emotions that had been washing over him, it would have been excruciating to stop once they opened the door to being that close.</p><p>Nat could feel his warmth withdraw. If she turned as she knew he wanted, he’d kiss her and she’d respond. Then her desire would escalate, from the usual faint ache she allowed herself to feel, into a bonfire of need. For the first time she was certain he would do the same. And for some reason she hadn’t fathomed, she wasn’t ready for that yet.</p><p>To ease the subtle rejection, she reached back with her left hand and lightly grasped his forearm, then brought it forward so she could lace her fingers through his. Her movements were precise and deft—she knew exactly where his arm was, as sure as she knew the position of her own. He squeezed her fingers gently, calmed by the sweet gesture.</p><p>Natasha’s mind continued to settle into a more normal state in the wake of their deep dive into the past and each others’ thoughts. Breathing the fresh air that flowed downward from the roof portal, she realized there was good reason for her hesitation to move forward immediately with Steve. Without turning around, she asked, “How long ago did you and Peggy call it quits?”</p><p>“Well, it was the middle of September 1949, so that would make it—”</p><p>“Stop. You know what I mean. How long has it actually been, in your personal time?”</p><p>“We made the decision about fifty hours ago. I left that era maybe four hours ago.”</p><p>“Damn, can’t even say you’re on the rebound yet. The ball hasn’t left the floor.”</p><p>“I guess you’re right. Somehow it feels much longer, though.”</p><p>The escalator reached the roof, and she released him and stepped off. He caught up with her and took her hand. She allowed it, though it felt awkward and exposed to be walking that way, especially since there were people around. An older male gardener pruned an African mango tree in a planter, and two twenty-something palace staffers, a man and woman, sat at a table talking. They tried, with partial success, to hide their curiosity about the famous visitors, whose presence they were forbidden to reveal to anyone.</p><p>Steve looked around as they emerged further into the sunlight, blinking in the brilliance. The view of the surrounding plains stretching toward steep mountains was spectacular. Natasha led him to the southwest corner of the terrace, which had the widest vistas.</p><p>“You weren’t kidding,” he said. She watched him take in the sun-drenched Golden City and transparent dome above. His face registered reverence as his gaze swept across the gorgeous landscape that he remembered. It fell, though, into blank misery as his sharp vision recognized the battlefields of 2018. Even after five years, scars left by fire, explosions, and threshers were visible, softened by new grasses and weeds. His eyes wandered to the canopy of the forest where they had fought Thanos and lost, where they had witnessed vicious murder and the crumbling of friends and allies into dust.</p><p>Natasha watched him descend into the nightmare of the past, and cursed herself for casually bringing him there. “Steve, it’s OK,” she assured him. “It was bad, but you fixed it, we fixed it. The people we lost are back, they’re still alive today.”</p><p>“Not those who fell in battle. Not Vision.”</p><p>She’d again misjudged his capacity for sorrow and guilt, because she was steeped in her own version. His guilt was rooted in failure, and not even his alone—their collective failure to repel an alien enemy so monstrously powerful and ambitious as to defy sense. She felt regret about the combat losses, but not the searing responsibility that he did. The guilt she wrestled with was rooted in horrifying personal actions, vastly more shameful than losing a battle to a titan and an implacable army. Yet here he was, bleakly suffering. A man so decent as to be only occasionally capable of selfishness and vengefulness, let alone evil, shouldered blame for a defeat shared by thousands.</p><p>“That old battlefield is changing, Steve. It’s overgrowing, so we can let go of what happened there. Like Peggy said, stop reminding yourself of the past. Look for what’s beautiful now.”</p><p>At her appeal, he tore his gaze away from the evidence of destruction, the reminders of pain. Rather than turning toward the verdant eastern mountains laced with clouds, though, he looked at Natasha. Her bare, faintly freckled face was framed by newly lustrous hair of deepest red. Aglow with care and concern for him, she showed no trace of caution or guile. Steve looked forward to a life together so he could witness a thousand such moments.</p><p>“You’re right,” he said. “Let’s go enjoy the sunshine.”</p><p>They strolled to the parapet facing east. Leaning against the warm stone wall, they looked out toward the hills and shared clear water from the bottle she’d brought. It was a simple moment to treasure, a herald of a new day for them.</p><p>Yet, already, doubt crept in. At this moment, she felt rejuvenated, a Natasha who could believe she was worthy of the love of this magnificent man. How long would her newfound faith in herself last, before she fell into her old patterns?</p><p>Steve saw that the glow on her face had faded, as though a cloud had passed in front of the sun. “Nat? You all right? What’s wrong?”</p><p>Natasha blinked. It startled her that she’d allowed her mood to be read so easily. She shouldn’t care—who better to be open to than Steve, especially now? Still, she automatically berated herself for her lack of discipline. And then scolded herself for that reaction. She’d worked ceaselessly to break damaging habits that had been trained into her; or, to be blunt, brainwashed and tortured into her. It was harder when those habits were extremely useful in her work. But that work was over, if she wanted. He’d made sure of that.</p><p>“I’m doing my usual thing, wondering how I’m going to screw this up,” she said breezily.</p><p>“Don’t. You aren’t going to.”</p><p>“I could. I don’t have to warn you about my deepest darkest recesses. There be dragons, and you know it.”</p><p>“Damn the dragons, full steam ahead.”</p><p>She laughed shortly, and Steve counted another win.</p><p>“Don’t underestimate my level of fucked-upness,” Natasha warned. “I’m not saying there’s no hope. At least I’m not saying that today. But I got issues, and they will affect our relationship.”</p><p>To her surprise, he yielded. “You know what, Romanov? You’re right. We’re a mess for sure. Not to take anything away from your struggles, but I’ve got a few issues of my own.”</p><p>It was true. While leader of the team, Nat had read Steve’s confidential file. Though he’d gotten a better start in life than she, what he’d gone through—the enhancement process, the war, crashing the plane, waking up far in the future, all the mayhem since—was enough to do a number on anyone’s head. And she’d witnessed the evidence over the years. Never in the midst of a mission; like her, he kept it together when people were depending on him. At other times, though, they’d see his thousand-yard stare, the withdrawing into depression, the hypervigilance, irrational anger. Sam had helped him, but he wasn’t what you’d call cured.</p><p>She’d eventually assessed Steve as a sensitive type, which he worked hard to hide, even from himself. Spending time around him had revealed to her his bleeding heart. In a cruel twist of fate, it was too tender to ever fully embrace his role as the ideal soldier, good as he was at it. He’d wanted to be able to protect people, but doing that had led him to more suffering and death than his psyche could deal with—especially the many deaths at his own hand.</p><p>Natasha suddenly remembered a statue inside a church in Sevilla, one she’d ducked into to evade pursuit on a long-ago op. The figure was labeled <span>Nuestra Señora de los Dolores</span>, Our Lady of Sorrows. It had rosy lips, a strong straight nose, and enormous sad eyes that stared across the chapel, above a golden heart pierced with seven swords. Though melodramatic and arguably gaudy, something about the haunted face had stuck with her all these years. She could swear that Steve was an avatar of the same concept. Maybe it was an effect of growing up Catholic.</p><p>Steve’s voice broke in on her memory, and his words strangely echoed it. “I guess it’s OK to admit now how twisted up I sometimes feel over things,” he said. “Especially you. I regret that I never managed to fess up to my feelings before. I always chickened out or decided it was wrong.”</p><p>“I’m just as responsible,” she said. “I’d see you look at me a certain way when we were alone, and immediately deflect. I made up so much bullshit about why I needed to stop you from getting closer, in a romantic way. ‘Oh, he’s horny enough to consider reaching out to a teammate. Gotta nip that in the bud. Bad for business.’ That was one of my go-to rationalizations. Another good one was, ‘He can’t possibly feel anything real for me because I’m a monster, and he knows it. He’s lonely and it will pass.’”</p><p>“I could feel you withdraw,” he said. “Like you knew what I was thinking and wanted to run from clumsy, misguided me. But I was a coward about it. The worst was after the Snap. I should have asked if you wanted to be together, offered myself to you finally. We could have been more of a comfort to each other than we were. My rationales were weak. I failed you, for five whole goddamn years. Looking back, it seems monstrous, inexplicable.”</p><p>“Steve, no,” Natasha said. “We’ve been through this. You’re not the only one responsible. I could have asked to go with you, asked you to join me, been honest about what I wanted, but I didn’t. I stayed in my Avengers nest and let you fly away every time.</p><p>“Listen to me. The important part is that whatever held us back, it was necessary. I’m convinced that our being together would have knocked something out of alignment and blown the endgame. The tradeoff for our being happy with each other for a few years could have been half of sentient life in the universe remaining dust. Or the whole thing crumbling, including us. We did what needed to be done even though we didn’t understand, even though it caused us pain. You could say it was kinda heroic, even.”</p><p>Steve looked dubious. She continued. “Look, I’ve become a connoisseur of guilt over the years. And if what I say is true, we absolutely get a pass on this one.”</p><p>“Maybe,” he conceded. Stoic regret looked both beautiful and heartbreaking on his face.</p><p>“What does it take? Do you need to actually hear the magic words? All right, then: I forgive you. You are forgiven.” Natasha pronounced the phrases distinctly.</p><p>Her sincere words gave Steve a genuine sense of relief. He bowed his head in recognition. “Ego te absolvo,” he muttered to himself, a dim echo of decades past.</p><p>He looked up at Nat. “Thank you,” he said quietly. “Confession and absolution might be old fashioned, but they have their place.”</p><p>“I agree they can be useful, except for what’s just not forgivable.”</p><p>“I don’t believe there are unforgivable sins, anymore.”</p><p>“I can think of one. A sin I haven’t committed yet, thank goodness.”</p><p>“Can you tell me?”</p><p>“Now, I can. Must have been eight years ago that I finally uncovered the truth of why I always walled you out. I covered it right back up with lies, but the reality lingered, deep down. I feared that if we got close in that way, you might be foolish enough to fall in love with me. I couldn’t allow that to happen, because I would surely, inevitably, fuck you over. The last person who deserved that, least of all from me. One way or another, I knew I’d break your beautiful heart. That would be an unforgivable sin. And then I would have to kill myself.”</p><p>There was no trace of flippancy in her tone. Steve breathed in sharply in surprise. Nat could be reckless and self-destructive, but she’d never admitted suicidal ideas to him. “Please tell me you don’t feel that way anymore,” he begged.</p><p>“I don’t. Not today. I’m on my second once-in-a-lifetime chance. I can start fresh, in every aspect of my life, including with you. I have to believe it’ll work, and that I’ll live up to it. I love you, but I’m still scared.”</p><p>She broke off. The sweet and vulnerable phrase sounded bizarre. She’d mostly said things like that in the course of an operation, to manipulate or trap. With Bruce, opening up had ended in disappointment and left her rededicated to avoiding sappiness at all costs. In her sanctuary downstairs, holding Steve’s hand and remembering the clarity of her final moments, she had believed herself. Up here in the light of day, the words still tasted phony on her tongue.</p><p>“I’m scared too,” he admitted. “I just ended a marriage that I thought was a sure thing, and we watched it go down in flames. You and I would do anything for each other, and what’s between us will always endure. It’s easy to imagine that means some grand, heroic gesture.”</p><p>“We’re good at those,” Natasha affirmed.</p><p>“What’s harder is believing we can be honest and kind and patient with each other, day after day, no matter what.” Steve looked toward the mountaintops again. “You can love someone and not be able to be with them. Sometimes love doesn’t conquer all, no matter how much we want it to.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0014"><h2>14. Fan Photos</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Natasha gets her head on straighter concerning personal issues, then overhears some palace staff members discussing a security breach that could be a threat to her and Steve. They take steps to counter it.</p><p>Rating: Teen and Up<br/>Content Note: none</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>I don’t know if I can take this rollercoaster ride, Natasha thought, as she watched Steve gaze, solemn and pensive, at the Wakandan mountains. The man who had less than an hour ago confessed how he had cared deeply for her for a decade, who had braved burning stones and worked space magic to haul her back from the land of the dead, had just now sadly noted that a person can love someone but be unable to remain with them. Because they’re too neurotic, or circumstances are tough, or whatever. Wonderful.</p><p>When Steve had told Nat the story of his marriage, it seemed as though he was over her already. He’d said all the right things, but she had to remember that he’d literally spent the previous night in Peggy’s house, maybe her bed. Was his lament, about love not always conquering all, filled with overwhelming regret about Peggy, or was it a warning to Natasha? Or both?</p><p>Or, she thought, she could stop spinning out speculation and give Steve Rogers a goddamn break.</p><p>Natasha leaned her crossed arms on the parapet wall and rested her head on them. She needed to chill. This was their first day together after her return from oblivion and his from eight months living in the past. They were trying to figure out a new relationship amid their expectations and fears, tangled up in history and psychological scars.</p><p>It wasn’t a new problem for her to navigate. The Avengers were highly strung humans (and other beings). They were a handful to deal with, not so much on the job—they had enough discipline to keep it together during missions—but during planning, training, downtime. Despite his troubles, Steve was considered, at least after the first year, the stable one. A role he acted well, preserving a calm and cool demeanor almost always, as teammate and leader. He was so good it was easy to expect him to be perfect.</p><p>Steve had always been more tolerant of her foibles than he was of the others; she’d assumed it was out of pity, but now she suspected it was out of love. She could take a page from his book and be patient with him.</p><p>He was staring down at her curiously. “You all right? Too much sun?” he asked.</p><p>“Not enough. My head’s spinning, but it’s just from trying to figure out what to do next.”</p><p>“I hear that.”</p><p>As though his words were an invocation, suddenly she did hear something interesting. The two staffers seated at a table about twelve meters away had raised their voices just enough so she could now make out words. They spoke in Wakandan; with Okoye’s help Natasha had become fluent in the language in the post-Snap years. It had been a peaceful, constructive project to help keep her mind occupied.</p><p>She shifted her head so she could hear better and said in a soft voice with a winning smile, “Listening to the argument at the table. Do fake talk.”</p><p>She was reverting to their operational shorthand, and was in command mode. Steve could also hear the couple’s words, but didn’t know enough of the language to understand. He smiled back, very naturally, and said, “For fun, or serious?”</p><p>“Staff over there discussing us; heard the word ‘pictures.’ Start now.”</p><p>Steve began to quietly recite a standard script. He had learned from her this a minor bit of spycraft deployed on a couple of their missions together. The script paraphrased a generic incident report that any lip-reading enemy would find plausible but of no value. It also wouldn’t distract the agent who was eavesdropping. He kept his expressions and gestures normal. Their targets would assume he was boring his companion with a long story.</p><p>He’d gotten two minutes into the report when Nat stood up and said in a normal voice, “The man took our photo on his phone a few minutes ago. The woman told him to delete it, threatened to go to their boss. He’s resistant, she’s waffling. We need to intervene,” she affirmed.</p><p>Instead of asking who should take the lead in confronting the staff, Steve raised an eyebrow a fraction.</p><p>Natasha understood. “I’ll be color commentary and bad cop.”</p><p>They walked over to the pair, who clammed up as soon as they approached, sitting bolt upright in the burnished metal chairs and looking quite guilty. Probably in their late twenties, they were clearly not security pros. Dressed for office work, they probably spoke excellent English. The man had short locks and looked to be of the Merchant Tribe. A phone, not Wakandan government issue, lay in front of him on a stack of printed spreadsheets, and Nat could almost feel him willing them not to notice it.</p><p>“Good afternoon. I’m Steve Holden,” he said, neutrally. “I wish I didn’t have to interrupt your conversation, but I believe one of you may have violated protocol regarding . . . us.” Steve remembered at the last moment Natasha didn’t have an alias established yet. No matter; these people knew their identities. Keeping to aliases inside the secure area was part of the protocol, good discipline so the false names would be used consistently everywhere.</p><p>Before either could respond, Natasha asked sternly, “Who are you?”</p><p>With wide eyes, the woman answered, “I am Aka Widenka. We work in the personnel office for the palace guard and security services.” She wore a bundle of long braids and was probably Golden Tribe.</p><p>“Uh-huh,” Nat said, looking directly at the man until she was satisfied he was close to pissing his pants. “And you?”</p><p>“Anthony N’Duren.”</p><p>“Anthony?” Steve queried.</p><p>“My first name in my tribal language is hard for everyone to pronounce. I adopted Anthony when I started here,” he said, voice shaking.</p><p>“How long have you worked in the palace?” Nat demanded.</p><p>“I came on six years ago, but, um—”</p><p>Aka broke in. “I started seven years ago, but for both of us there was a . . . gap.”</p><p>This detail softened Steve and Natasha’s attitude a little. These two were relatively new as well as getting used to a changed world after being dust for five years. Still, breaking the identity protection rules was serious and they needed to learn a lesson.</p><p>“Any photos in that phone that shouldn’t be there?” Steve asked levelly.</p><p>Anthony looked down. “I did take a picture a few minutes ago. I would never post it anywhere or show it around outside the palace. It’s just a personal memento.”</p><p>“You know why that’s against protocol,” Steve said. “And so do you,” he added, looking at Aka.</p><p>She nodded wretchedly.</p><p>He answered, “Yes, Captain.”</p><p>Nat choked back a laugh by pretending to cough and Steve looked to the heavens for aid. “Don’t call me that. Did you even read all the Class Seven protocols?”</p><p>“I . . . yes, I have, sorry Mr. Holden.”</p><p>“Sloppy. You’re not supposed to bring a personal device inside the secure perimeter, let alone use it. Let’s see the photo, and I’ll watch you delete it.”</p><p>Trembling, Anthony put in his code to unlock the phone, earning frowns from both Natasha and Steve—four digits was nothing for a code gen box to crack, and this one was easy to guess anyway.</p><p>“I’ll bet five percent of your countrymen have FRVR as their passcode,” Nat said derisively. “Totally lame, Anthony.”</p><p>Mortified, the young man tapped and swiped until a photo of them standing at the corner of the terrace showed on screen. “There’s this one, and one just like it I took a second later. That’s it.” He swiped so that they could see the previous unrelated image next to the offending ones.</p><p>“Make them go away,” Steve ordered.</p><p>Anthony selected and deleted while the former Avengers kept a close eye. Satisfied, Steve said, “All right. Leave that thing at home or check it at the entrance. Don’t bring it up here again.”</p><p>Natasha was watching Aka, who looked cagey. “So, Aka, anything else you want to tell us?”</p><p>The young woman started, and looked down at her hands in her lap. “There’s—he showed me a photo two days ago. Of you, eating lunch up here.”</p><p>“Oh really,” Nat said, raising her eyebrows and turning her glare back to Anthony.</p><p>“That true?” Steve asked him. He’d dropped his voice half an octave.</p><p>The man wouldn’t meet their eyes. He appeared to be trying to disappear into himself. “Yes,” he said in a near-squeak.</p><p>“You had your chance, kid,” Steve said ominously.</p><p>He reached out and with one finger dragged the phone along the table toward him. He pressed harder and the screen under the ruggedized case shattered. Picking the phone up, he folded it tightly in half with one hand. It emitted a satisfying crunch.</p><p>He placed the mangled device ceremoniously in front of Anthony, saying, “I’m disappointed that I can’t trust you to follow a few simple rules to protect us.” He paused as the man continued to look at the phone, humiliated. “What do you do next?”</p><p>“I tell my supervisor about what happened.”</p><p>Steve shifted his eyes to Aka.</p><p>“Both of us will present ourselves for disciplinary action,” she said. “I should have reported the first photograph.”</p><p>Steve nodded. “All right, go do it.”</p><p>The two stood up. The man shuffled his papers together with the phone on top. As they turned toward the south side of the building to head to the main escalator, Natasha said abruptly, “So, Anthony.”</p><p>They paused.</p><p>“Is your name a tribute to Mr. Stark?”</p><p>“Yes, madame.”</p><p>She turned to Steve. “Sloppy, <em>and</em> on Team Iron Man. Great,” she said, looking disgusted.</p><p>The staffer bobbled and his phone almost slid off the stack of spreadsheets. “Oh, no, I just, I didn’t—”</p><p>“Don’t worry, she’s just teasing,” Steve said with a faint smile. “Anyhow, we’re all Team Iron Man now.”</p><p>As his reference to the Battle of Earth sank in, the Wakandans’ employment fears receded and they realized the gravity of the conversation. Standing in front of them were real people, not the two-dimensional nicknamed celebrities of their imaginations, seen on the news and around the internet over the years. The man who had wielded Mjolnir and defied Thanos, whom the Black Panther treated as a peer. The woman who’d battled the alien enemies shoulder to shoulder with Wakanda’s forces, on a field visible from this spot, and had led the Avengers including General Okoye after the Snap. Heroes who had risked their lives to obtain the Infinity Stones that had revived half the human race. Romanov had supposedly died for a stone, but clearly they must have heard wrong.</p><p>Nat noted the shift in how the pair were looking at them. She wanted to make sure their dazzled brains took home the most important aspect of their encounter. “Remember, the first rule of Visitor Classification Seven is, we are not here,” she said. “Second rule is, we were never here. You understand?”</p><p>“Yes, madame, we understand,” Aka said. Anthony nodded vigorously. Natasha dismissed them with a toss of her head toward the escalator. He practically ran away, the woman following and whispering fiercely after him.</p><p>They’d made it about ten steps when Aka stopped her companion by tugging on his arm. She glared at him and gestured toward Natasha and Steve. He hugged his papers close to his chest, and found the courage to raise his head and say in a clear voice, “I apologize most sincerely. I will never do such a thing again.”</p><p>Aka gathered herself and stood straight before speaking. “Thank you, honored visitors,” she said with a dignified bow of her head. “For everything.”</p><p>The two hurried to the escalator and soon disappeared.</p><p>“Stupid kids,” Nat growled, sitting down at the vacated table.</p><p>“They’re not that much younger than we are, you know,” Steve countered, joining her.</p><p>“It’s not the years, it’s the miles.”</p><p>He smiled to himself at his memory of where he’d last heard that phrase.</p>
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<a name="section0015"><h2>15. The Watcher</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Natasha and Steve find out more about their Wakandan hosts, and make progress in the touching department.</p><p>Rating: Teen and Up<br/>Content Note: Sexual themes</p>
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    <p>Natasha turned so she could prop a foot up on the chair next to her. “You know that guy’s going to keep the folded phone forever. Probably pass it down as a family heirloom.”</p><p>“You think so?” Steve asked. “What for?”</p><p>“Bet you a hundred bucks he’ll use it as a prop for stories to tell his children and grandchildren.”</p><p>“As long as he doesn’t show it to anybody for the foreseeable future, fine. It’s only a clue in context. He can’t prove to the grandkids what happened to it.”</p><p>In a childlike voice, Nat said, “Grandpa, why do you have that hunk of junk on display?” She switched to a gravelly tone. “My boy, let me tell you about the day Captain America himself beat me up and mangled my phone.” In her normal voice, she added, “Little kids are gullible. Helps make them cute.”</p><p>She suddenly felt the slight frisson she got when someone was watching her, and went quiet as she ascertained the source. She’d forgotten the gardener pottering in a far corner of the terrace. Natasha thought to herself that she was slipping in tradecraft, but wasn’t sure whether to be upset or pleased about it.</p><p>The worker in question had put down his tools and was approaching them. There was a contrite look on his narrow, deep brown face. He appeared to be in his sixties but moved like a much younger man.</p><p>“Mr. Holden, Ms. Romanov, please excuse the interruption. My name is Ebedu Kola.”</p><p>“Greetings, Citizen Kola,” Steve said.</p><p>“Pleased to meet you,” Natasha said. “What’s your service rank?”</p><p>Kola smiled. “My cover is not as airtight as I thought, apparently.”</p><p>“Quite good, actually; I’d forgotten you were there until just now,” she said. “Elderly gardeners don’t usually move like a cheetah about to put on a burst of speed, however.”</p><p>He laughed. “You are certainly as observant as one might assume. I am a senior agent with the intelligence division of the Royal Guard. I have surfaced because I witnessed the incident with the two staff members. I wished to apologize immediately on behalf of Wakandan security services and assure you the lapse will be handled appropriately. It will not recur.”</p><p>“You’re our watcher?” Steve asked. “I didn’t know our threat level rated one at this point.”</p><p>“I am one of those assigned to ensure you have a pleasant stay, free from any concern about security. It is not threat assessment that prompts coverage, but commitment at the highest levels to your comfort.”</p><p>“We’ll take that as a compliment,” Natasha said.</p><p>“Indeed you should. Had you not confronted those two, I would have followed them as they left and turned them over for discipline. And ensured that the technology in question was confiscated.”</p><p>“I’m sorry if destroying the device was against your procedure,” Steve said. “It was impulsive. I realize it would have been better to have the phone available to see if he had other compromising data stored, and to track any uploads.”</p><p>“Ya think?” Nat said, with an eyeroll.</p><p>“N’Duren would not have been able to secure any sort of connection from this terrace with his personal phone. Our experts have arranged it so that access requires a specialized device. In addition, his background has been thoroughly investigated. He is genuinely a novice in such matters. Not a mole, as I think the term is in the United States.”</p><p>“Maybe the Snap and Blip have destabilized him. He seems twitchy, and shaky on the essentials,” Natasha said.</p><p>“Indeed, this transgression is of great concern. I will ensure that he is dismissed.”</p><p>Steve frowned. “We’d suggest some consequence short of that. He’s likely salvageable. Better to keep him inside the organization rather than pushing him out so he holds a grudge.”</p><p>Kola noted the “we” in Steve’s opinion. He looked at Natasha, having noted her harsh attitude toward Anthony in particular.</p><p>Natasha nodded assent. “He’s humiliated, but eager to redeem himself.”</p><p>Steve added, “It might serve as a lasting object lesson. Both he and Widenka seemed impressed by meeting us. They’d be grateful if their careers are spared.”</p><p>Kola looked dubious, but said, “I will pass on your recommendation to Leader Tumeli.”</p><p>Natasha was surprised to hear the name. “Won’t they be disciplined by the personnel boss? Are Dora Milaje officers involved in matters at such a low level?”</p><p>“Normally their supervisors would handle the situation,” Kola answered. “But as I noted, you are of great interest to the royal family and to the heads of all security services. Tumeli has been tasked with oversight of your protection.”</p><p>“Oh,” Natasha said. “Impressive. We’re not in the loop on arrangements—Mr. Holden just got here and Shuri has been keeping me under wraps. I’d like to have a chat with Tumeli and Okoye soon.”</p><p>“And they look forward to a conversation with you as well. By the way, have you settled on an alias?”</p><p>She looked at Steve. “I’ve been thinking about it. I want to use something new to me. How do you feel about Kathryn Sheen? Nickname Kat.”</p><p>“Fine with me. Whatever you like.”</p><p>“Has a nice vibe. Let’s go with it, at least provisionally. Your people can run various spellings through the databases to make sure it’s a good choice.”</p><p>“I will let the team know, Ms. Sheen,” Kola said. “Right after I follow up on N’Duren and Widenka. If you would excuse me?” he asked.</p><p>They agreed and shook hands all around. “It is an honor to meet you,” he said before heading off.</p><p>“Are you creeped out that they’re keeping such close tabs on us?” Natasha asked.</p><p>“A little. On the other hand, it’s kind of comforting.”</p><p>“I wonder if we’re actually alone yet, or if there’s someone else lurking. I’ll sweep,” she said, standing up.</p><p>“You’re supposed to be relaxing, not spying,” he said, rising and putting out a hand to stop her. “Why not let it go? Does it matter if anyone is up here?”</p><p>“You’re right, it shouldn’t,” she agreed.</p><p>They stood close, though awkwardly. The energy between them had increased once Kola left. Steve wanted nothing more than to pull Natasha into an embrace, and more. He felt constrained, mostly by his own habits. Over a decade of discipline, especially when they were around others, was not easily cast aside.</p><p>The invisible barrier between them was very familiar to Nat, yet one they’d been able to overcome during their intense conversation in the apartment. It occurred to her that the hand-holding and embraces they’d indulged in that day represented a significant fraction of their physical contact over the past dozen years. She was more comfortable around Steve than any other person, except maybe Clint. Nevertheless, despite their long and close association, they guarded their emotions toward the other and touched only about as often as casual friends.</p><p>“You know, it’s all right to hug for no reason now,” she said, and threw her arms wide. He stepped into them, enveloping her small form and snuggling her against his chest.</p><p>“It’ll take some getting used to, this touchy-feely business,” he said with a smile. “But by golly I’m game to try.”</p><p>Steve had always been vigilant about not crossing any lines with Natasha. Not as CO, co-leader, mission partner, or friend. He knew more than anyone in the organization except Nick about what Natasha had been subjected to; his position had required that he read her confidential file. Whether at headquarters, on the road, in a rare casual outing, or during an operation, he didn’t touch her unless he was sure she was OK with it. She could think of only three times he’d laid a hand on her without her obvious consent, and she hadn’t minded because of their underlying trust.</p><p>“I tried to do the right thing all these years,” Steve said, tentatively playing with the very ends of her hair as it lay on her back. “Not quite holding you at arm’s length, but being careful how I treated you. I tried to be ethical, think about the team and our mission, while still being a friend.”</p><p>“You done good, Rogers. I always felt safe with you.”</p><p>She remembered the time after Nick had been shot that he’d pushed her against a wall to demand answers. Anyone else who tried such a move would have ended up on the floor writhing in pain, and that’s if they were lucky. She hadn’t felt threatened, which was odd since he was one of the few people on the planet who could overpower her. She’d known he was confused, scared, and angry and was showing how serious he was about needing her help; never for a moment did she believe he would actually hurt her. The encounter had actually been kind of hot, which hadn’t helped with her fixation on him.</p><p>Natasha gave his waist a hearty squeeze, which she’d never done before. It felt like a tree trunk, if a tree were made of muscle. “You know, I look back over the years and remember how sloppy the rest of the team was about touching,” she said. “They’re people with normal upbringings, normal boundaries. They don’t think about the problems a person might have with being touched.”</p><p>“What did they do?” he asked.</p><p>“Like, Bruce thought it was cute to ambush me with hugs, whether I was up for them or not.”</p><p>“Yeah, I spoke to him about that once. Tried not to be too schoolteacher about it but he still didn’t like it much.”</p><p>“You did?” Nat was surprised. “Thanks for looking out for me. I guess that’s why he got better about it for awhile.”</p><p>“Tony tended to stand way too close and leave his hand lingering on your back,” Steve noted.</p><p>“Oh, he pulled that dominance-flirty shtick on you too?” she said with a smirk.</p><p>“Uh, no. Good thing he didn’t or things would have gone south between us sooner than they did.”</p><p>“Interesting that you noticed; it was kind of subtle.”</p><p>“I notice just about everything that has to do with you.”</p><p>“It wasn’t only the men, I have to say. Maria had this habit of touching my arm if we were having an intense discussion. Sets my teeth on edge.”</p><p>“Must be a girl thing. I never saw that one.”</p><p>“Really, the only person on the team who was always careful about touching me was the one whose touch wouldn’t have bothered me. Probably for the best, though; more contact would have made me uncomfortable because I did want it so much.”</p><p>Her new honesty about her feelings was still startling to Steve, though welcome. He offered a little confession of his own. “I felt that keeping my distance protected you from my desire to be with you. I walked a fine line, always trying to act so that I wouldn’t set you off, or insult you, or scare you. Or me.”</p><p>“Like I said, you did a fine job. But you know what? My comfort around you made me nervous at first.”</p><p>“How?”</p><p>“It made me suspicious. I’m very good at suspicious.” Natasha’s survival skills were extreme and her coping mechanisms well past the point of unhealthy, but they had kept her alive so she’d always paid attention to their dictates. “You alarmed me because my defenses, my normal wariness, immediately went down around you. I couldn’t understand how or why that happened. I didn’t know what the consequences might be.”</p><p>“Dire. Just look at us now.”</p><p>“Yeah. You treat a person with care and respect and all kinds of crazy stuff can happen.”</p><p>Steve leaned down and hugged her harder, and she responded. He was thrilled at the prospect of seeing her and touching her like this, maybe even every day. But for how long? Though she’d affirmed she wanted to be with him in some way, he didn’t know whether she might decide to rejoin the Avengers. He would have to wait to bring it up again—he shouldn’t push her on the question.</p><p>Natasha raised the topic for him, as though she’d read his mind. Leaning back a little, she said, “Speaking of the team: In case you were wondering, I’m very much inclined to not go back to the US. You’ve given me an irreplaceable opportunity to move on. That’s hard to pass up.”</p><p>Something inside him relaxed that he hadn’t realized was uptight. “Great. That gives us space and time to figure out . . . us.”</p><p>“We’re making progress. Do you realize we’ve been in this full-length hug for like four minutes? That’s totally a record.”</p><p>“Outstanding. Do we kiss next?” he said, and brushed his lips across her hairline. That escalator feeling had come back, and had increased in urgency every minute of their embrace.</p><p>Natasha shivered with pleasure at the touch, and sighed. “We need to talk about it.”</p><p>“Isn’t it silly to talk about kissing instead of just, you know, kissing?”</p><p>“Not when a relationship has as many complications as this one.”</p><p>“What’s the chief complication?”</p><p>“You’re cute when you play dumb, but I like smart men better.”</p><p>Steve sighed. “My ex.”</p><p>“That’s more like it.”</p><p>“I want a snack before we talk any more.”</p><p>“Oh, mister high metabolism needs food. What do you want to do about it?”</p><p>“I have a fridge stocked to the gills. My place?”</p><p>“Lead me on, hungry boy.”</p>
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<a name="section0016"><h2>16. Long Night</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Flashback to January 2017, Romania: On the run and existing underground, Natasha, Steve, and Sam are in the midst of a heist gone, not wrong exactly, but slow. Nat and Steve find their long wait tantalizing and frustrating.</p><p>Rating: Teen and Up<br/>Content Note: Significant sexual themes, mild violence</p>
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    <p><b>January 2017</b><br/>
<b>Northern Romania</b></p><p>In a ruined stone cabin on an out-of-the-way hill in the Carpathian Mountains, Natasha, Sam, and Steve conferred quietly. Night was about to fall and they’d just determined that the vehicle they were set to ambush was delayed. It was broken down within a bunkered warehouse complex down the hill.</p><p>“From what the mechanic was saying, it could take anywhere from three to six hours to fix,” said Nat. She’d listened to twenty minutes of arguing in Romanian and Russian, relayed by the bug they’d attached to the empty truck in a parking lot earlier. The truck would soon be loaded with advanced laser parts, designed for use in a new enrichment process for uranium. Where the stolen parts were headed was a place with a government that no reasonable person thought should be able to produce fissile material. The ex-Avengers’ plan to steal and redirect them would be substantially better for world peace. And score them some sorely needed cash.</p><p>“If they estimate three to six it might be finished in eight,” Steve said. “Even four hours would be outside our schedule.”</p><p>“This is a hell of an opportunity though,” Natasha pointed out. “If we let that truck get several hours down the road out of this backwater, it’ll be much messier to hijack it.”</p><p>“Agreed. It needs to be where no one will see us, so we stay off the radar,” Steve said.</p><p>“Let’s do this,” Sam said with confidence. “I can make the information exchange this evening in town by myself, instead of all three of us. Don’t need the goods for that. Looks like it will be a low-key job and now we know the contact speaks English. You guys wait for the truck here.”</p><p>“Temperature’s already freezing,” Steve noted. “Forecast low tonight is fifteen below.” He was using the Celsius scale, but it was cold enough by any measurement. Despite his body’s remarkable ability to keep itself warm, low temperatures made Steve anxious. Especially when accompanied by snow.</p><p>Nat felt his unease. “We can’t risk a fire to keep us warm up here. It’d attract attention. Maybe we should just bust the place now.”</p><p>“I vote no,” Steve said. “Who knows what vehicles are available—if there was another usable one, they’d probably have switched over already. We also have no fix on how many people are in there or how they’re armed.”</p><p>Natasha had already made this call, but she wanted to hear him concur.</p><p>Sam was sanguine. “You can chill—I mean, hang here no problem. I’ve got an ultralight bag in my emergency pack. Rated to zero Fahrenheit.”</p><p>Steve was dubious. “Emergency sleeping bags don’t tend to fit me so well.”</p><p>“This one is extra extra large, should be Cap-sized. But not underwater.” Sam chuckled, while his companions studiously pretended not to have heard the alleged joke.</p><p>“You can have my energy bars. I’ll find shelter and food in town,” he added. Sam was careful to maintain a well-stocked emergency kit, a habit from his pararescue days.</p><p>“All right,” Steve said. He exchanged a look with Nat before confirming, “We’ll wait for the truck.”</p><p>The three discussed the necessary changes to their plan. Transfer of the goods was set for Budapest. It wasn’t one of Natasha’s favorite cities, but there was a trustworthy cutout there they could use to connect with the government rep seeking return of the parts. With their US assets frozen because of designation as a terrorist group, the EU’s cash reward was needed so they didn’t have to rely on the kindness of allies. It would have been easier and more lucrative to sell the cargo to the shadiest of arms dealers, but they weren’t willing to be that irresponsible. Natasha had joked that they were the world’s most wholesome desperados, the Boy Scouts of terrorists.</p><p>Sam headed out for his part of the op in the beat-up auto they’d borrowed; they really did plan to return it. Nat and Steve set up their aerie overlooking the drive leading from the warehouse. The old cabin had no roof and was missing most of two walls, but it provided visual cover from the road and some protection from wind and precip. They piled up brush for a camp bed and shared an energy bar.</p><p>At 18:00 it was fully nighttime and starting to snow. Natasha could see her partner’s increasing tension. “Time to bed down, soldier, and get out of the weather,” she announced.</p><p>“Go ahead. I’ll take first watch and swap with you in a few hours.”</p><p>“No, you’re not going to sit out there by yourself getting snowed on. There’s room for both of us in this waterproof sleeping bag, and we don’t need to stand watch,” she pointed out. “We can lie watch. Our surveill box will alert when the truck starts to move, and we have no reason to think anyone will be out on foot tonight.”</p><p>They’d slept in the same room, sometimes the same bed, on numerous missions. It had never been in quarters quite this close, with no opportunity to move elsewhere for a break if proximity became overwhelming. Steve was apprehensive about how well he would deal with it. Their Wakanda-provided tac suits, however, were only rated down to twenty degrees Fahrenheit. It would be better for operational effectiveness if both were dry, warm, and rested when the target appeared, so in the same sleeping bag they would go.</p><p>They wore black knit watch caps, but Natasha had rigged up a shelf of branches against the wall as shelter for their heads from the accumulating snow. “I guess that’ll do,” she said, frowning as she examined her handiwork by flashlight. “It sure would be nice to have a piece of unbreakable metal you could embed in the wall instead. That sort of thing comes in handy.” She was referring to a replacement shield the Wakandans had offered and Steve had politely declined.</p><p>He sighed, as snowflakes alighted sparkling on his beard and quickly melted. “Do we have to have this argument again?”</p><p>“Yes. But not tonight,” she conceded. “I’ll take first watch.”</p><p>He got in the bag first and she slid in front of him, closer to the side opening and the weatherproof surveillance monitor. To fit, they lay on their right sides spoon fashion. There was just enough room to lie a couple of inches apart. Both of them had highly developed kinesthesia, the sixth sense of where their bodies were in space, so were able to contour to each other’s forms without actually touching.</p><p>“If it’s comfortable, you can drape an arm over me,” Natasha offered. “Better than it falling against me when you’re asleep.” She was scrupulously matter-of-fact.</p><p>The position made sense, so Steve carefully did so, his left hand resting near her right on the bottom of the sleeping bag. Though the closeness was at first energizing, tiredness soon took over—in the past four days, he had done most of the driving and slept only a few hours. Soon his breathing slowed and deepened as he fell asleep.</p><p>Natasha lay wide awake, acutely aware of Steve’s breath on her neck and the weight of his arm. Their makeshift rack and thin sleeping bag weren’t comfortable but they’d both slept in many a worse place, and not long ago in fact.</p><p>Having a living heater close by was pleasant, and the presence of this particular individual helped keep her awake. She assumed that his personal energy wasn’t quite as palpable to others as it was to her. He felt like an electromagnet to which her body was precisely tuned. The prospect of spending hours within inches of that was both intriguing and daunting. She had to stay awake with nothing to occupy her; it was hard to turn her thoughts away from him.</p><p>After Steve had been asleep about forty-five minutes, his breathing turned uneven and Natasha could feel and almost hear his heart rate increase. He moved occasionally, in tiny increments. Never far enough to touch her, as though he preserved an unbreachable barrier between them, even while unconscious. Barely audible groans and whimpers surfaced now and then. She found the tiny noises heartrending, echoes of vulnerability and bad dreams. She’d only witnessed his disturbed sleep on a few missions, always when it was just the two of them. Tonight his discomfort seemed pronounced.</p><p>Natasha wondered whether she should wake him, but she thought that startling him out of a nightmare might provoke a scream. She decided to leave Steve alone to wrestle with whatever circled within his head, which was what she would choose for herself, though she wanted badly to turn around and take him in her arms.</p><p>Eventually the disturbances subsided. She was heartened to hear his calm breathing and enjoyed his arm across her torso; she could pretend he was holding her. Still she willed the damnedly silent surveill box, inches from her face under the sheltering shelf of brush, to signal that they could go. She would much rather play Terror Scout than remain in this frustrating, awkward position.</p><p>At about 20:30, Natasha called it a watch and gently elbowed Steve. He awakened immediately and asked how she was doing.</p><p>“Not a damn thing going on downstairs,” she said. “Only expected background noise. Ready to swap,” she announced.</p><p>There wasn’t enough room to do so without getting up—at least not without extreme awkwardness—so she unfastened the bag’s velcro, crawled out, and stood. Stretching felt excellent despite the cold.</p><p>After they swapped places, Nat contemplated the cliff of Steve’s broad back. Her arm was too short to surmount it comfortably. “Can I rest my arm on your hip?” she asked.</p><p>“Sure,” he said shortly. What else could he do, tell her no? Not that he really wanted to.</p><p>Touching him made her tingle more than she’d thought it would. They’d shared friendly hugs over the years and had covered or carried each other in emergencies, but this episode was the closest they’d been for a substantial length of time.</p><p>As they warmed up again in their cocoon, Natasha hazarded a question before trying to catch a nap. “You were dreaming,” she said. “You seemed agitated. Do you remember what it was about?”</p><p>Steve held his breath a moment. He recalled snippets of two dreams. One was troubling but he wouldn’t mind disclosing it to her. The other involved the two of them naked and entwined in front of a fireplace. What sounds and motions had his subconscious produced, and would she buy the nightmare by itself?</p><p>“A recurring dream,” he said quietly. “It gets triggered if I breathe freezing air. There’s an avalanche and I’m buried in it. I struggle to dig out, then become encased in ice and can’t move. Never been sure how much is a dream and how much might be a twisted memory.”</p><p>Natasha had her own brutal nightmares, but this bleak death dream struck her as just as terrifying. “I’m sorry,” she said sincerely. “Do you want to talk about it?”</p><p>It had been a long time since he had spoken about the dream to anyone—he’d admitted it to the SHIELD psychologist the second year he underwent evaluation, no one since. It had an obvious meaning; what was the use in rehashing?</p><p>“It’s a lousy dream but I’d rather not dwell on it. I’ve never had it twice in one night, anyway. Thanks for offering, though.” He meant that sincerely as well.</p><p>“All right.” Yielding to the impulse to comfort him in some way, she patted his hip. “Let’s hope the wrench jockeys in the warehouse finish up soon so we can get out of here.”</p><p>“Well, if they don’t and we’re stuck another couple of hours—sweet dreams,” he replied.</p><p>He was touched by her concern and kindness. Steve missed the camaraderie of the Avengers, as well as the familiarity of home. For months his circle had been limited to two people, and they were almost always in operational mode. They found little time for relaxing and the enjoyable trappings of companionship. Sam and Natasha were professionals of the highest caliber who had his back in every way a soldier or a friend could expect; he felt pathetic for being so starved for an overt expression of caring. Especially from her.</p><p>Nat slept shallowly, never making it down into the velvety darkness that would allow her to dream. Her body relaxed toward Steve and her arm slid forward, leaving her hand dangling close to his groin. This inadvertent tease helped keep him awake. The sleeping bag became cozily warm again, along with their bodies. His physical and mental state hovered on the edge of arousal, as did Nat’s when she surfaced from sleep occasionally. Of course neither acknowledged how they felt. Nothing could be allowed to interfere with the success of the operation, and their reticence toward one another had been ingrained for years now.</p><p>Two hours later nothing had happened in the warehouse; the lights on the box remained stubbornly steady. Steve didn’t bother to announce watch end, just opened the sleeping bag and began the shift process. It was snowing again, and ambient noise decreased with the muffling of falling fluffy water. Nat opened the channel to the truck bug, listening through the earbud for a few minutes, but heard nothing promising.</p><p>They settled back into their first positions.</p><p>“S’weird,” Natasha said sleepily. “I’m warm but my hands are cold.” Both of them wore tactical gloves that left the first two joints of their fingers free. She tucked one hand under her waist.</p><p>He shifted his left hand to cover her right, asking, “That help?”</p><p>“Ah, thanks.”</p><p>They lay there, both having had a recent nap, and neither had any hope of going back to sleep, though both feigned it after a few minutes. The long immersion in one another’s warmth and vitality, breathing pheromone-laden air, crowned with tantalizing contact, had a predictable effect on their bodies. They were both turned on and each had to face the prospect of possibly waiting for hours more.</p><p>The whisper-quiet magic of the gently falling snow, the dazed feeling of having slept but not long enough to satisfy, and sustained tensions led to an altered mental state affecting them both. Natasha shifted her hand very slightly so their fingers were next to each other, almost interlaced. His skin on hers felt better than it had any reason to, and she chanced an actual caress of his index finger. She was answered, slowly, by a similar motion from Steve’s hand. They otherwise lay stock still. It was as though their hands had minds of their own.</p><p>Was the other asleep, or pretending? If they didn’t answer those questions or ask any others, they could continue.</p><p>Natasha breathed shallowly as she struggled with the feelings coursing through her. Steve’s breathing and motion changed as it had during his previous dream, though he made no sound. He shifted, relaxing toward her so they were a millimeter apart. The sensual dance of their hands went on for perhaps fifteen minutes—both of them lost complete track of time. Eventually he fully laced their fingers together and held on almost painfully tight, still apparently in his sleep. She squeezed his hand in response. After he released her from his grip, their little caresses wound down. Once their hands ceased their dance, they remained entwined. The night was almost silent, except for their breathing, which slowly returned to normal.</p><p>An hour into the watch, the surveillance alarm finally flashed and buzzed. Without a word, Natasha and Steve scrambled out of the bag, seized their weapons, and moved out, half-sliding downhill through three inches of new snow.</p><p>As planned, Steve planted himself in the middle of the road to surprise the driver into stopping. The panel truck appeared, grinding up the dirt road from the bunker entrance, and skidded to a halt when its headlight beams fell on a big man in a black tactical suit standing in the falling snow. Steve was glad the gambit worked; plan B involved leaping onto the hood of the moving truck and resorting to more active measures.</p><p>Natasha charged up from the ditch and tore open the passenger door. She seized the shotgun of the man riding shotgun and tossed it a few meters away. Grabbing an arm, she hauled out the confused guard before he was anywhere close to reacting, tased him and left him in the ditch.</p><p>By the time Steve arrived at the driver’s side, the man had pulled a pistol but wasn’t sure where to aim it. Careful not to rip the door off its hinges—they were planning on driving the truck, after all—Steve ducked low and dragged the driver out by his legs. He hurled him aside against a tree to dislodge the weapon and knock him out.</p><p>Nat nicked the back door key from the unconscious guard. She climbed in the back of the still-running vehicle to inspect what they came for: eight wooden crates of laser parts. Steve bounded back up the hill to fetch their gear and scatter the brush they’d piled up.</p><p>When he returned, Natasha’s silence indicated that she had no issues to report: the cargo was accounted for. She sat in the passenger seat with their new shotgun and pistol, indicating by her position that she wanted him to drive. Steve cranked up the heater, stomped down on the clutch, shoved the gearshift into first, and they rolled. From the time the truck stopped to their heading out for the rendezvous point had been a total of four and a half minutes.</p><p>* * *</p><p>They never spoke of the long Carpathian wait again, until after she came back from the dead.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Something a bit different to break up the long day of reunion Steve and Nat are having. The content of the flashback will become relevant in a future chapter. I'm out of town for a few days so won't post anything for several days, when we'll return to the main storyline with a new chapter. I hope you enjoy!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0017"><h2>17. Face the Music</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Aka and Anthony confess their security sins to incredulous superiors and wonder what their punishment will entail.</p><p>Rating: Teen and Up<br/>Content Note: none</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>A little bit of a departure; this chapter has original characters only, though canon characters (mostly Natasha and Steve) are talked about. Nat and Steve return in the next chapter.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Lele Mifuna was tired, and he grew more tired as he contemplated the pudgy face of Anthony N’Duren across his desk. Lele was always irritated when he had to deal with N’Duren for more than a few minutes, and he wondered what drama his employee had come up with this time. He did feel sorry for the young man, about the age of his own eldest son. Anthony clearly was struggling with issues related to the Blip. He was intelligent and competent enough at his job, but his constant anxiety was wearying.</p><p>The only reason Lele had agreed to see him this late in the afternoon was that Aka Widenka had made the “emergency” meeting a joint request. She was much more stable than Anthony, so her worried expression and clipped syllables portended a real problem. Neither of them were willing to disclose the situation until they got behind a closed door.</p><p>Mifuna wearily ran a hand over his short curly hair and asked in Wakandan, “What’s on your mind?”</p><p>Anthony looked to Aka for rescue. She stared back at him until he broke down and spoke.</p><p>“There’s been an incident. Involving us. On the terrace. A security thing. Not really a breach, but it was, kind of. Technically,” he stammered.</p><p>Aka rolled her eyes, then faced Mifuna. “Anthony took photos of visitors 7H and 7R with his personal phone, two days ago and today.” In her rededication to cautious rule-following, Aka used the current approved codes for the pair. “I knew about one of the photos since yesterday and didn’t report it.”</p><p>Lele rubbed the bridge of his nose above his glasses. This really was a big deal, if not quite an emergency. “Great. That’s what, six violations you’re describing? Personal device present in secure zone, use of said device, at least two illicit photos, display of the photos to another person, and one failure to report. Have I got that right?”</p><p>“Yes,” she confirmed. Anthony nodded morosely.</p><p>“What were you thinking, N’Duren?” Lele asked, shaking his head. “These are high-profile people. You don’t mess around with their protocols. Theoretically, I’m supposed to report this to Leader Tumeli, and she would not be at all happy with either of you.”</p><p>“Theoretically?” Anthony asked with a note of hope.</p><p>“I have some discretion on how to handle such violations by my employees. Did you show anybody the photos who isn’t read into the security perimeter? Or anybody inside except Aka?”</p><p>“No, I wouldn’t do that. She’s the only person I showed them to. I would have let Babaku have a peek but he hasn’t been at work so—”</p><p>“Son, do not tell me how you thought about doing more rule-breaking. Did you upload them anywhere? Or save them to a computer?”</p><p>“Neither. There are no duplicates. I understand why that would be serious. But a couple of innocent photos of them, just to keep for myself on my phone—why is that so bad?”</p><p>“What if your phone were stolen or otherwise compromised? A non-approved person might also see them by mistake when you were looking to show something else. It’s happened, believe me. We have to guard against even low-probability threats,” Mifuna explained.</p><p>Lele looked at them sternly over his reading glasses. “Ultimately, it’s not your place to make judgment calls on what protocols you deign to follow on a particular day. You don’t have an operational need to know why the rules are as they are. You should trust there are good reasons, even if you can’t imagine them.”</p><p>“I’m sorry, boss. I won’t do it again,” Anthony assured him.</p><p>Aka chimed in, “He certainly won’t. I apologize as well. I realize that I should have come to you right away. Something could have happened in the day I delayed.”</p><p>Lele relaxed a little. Both of them deserved a good slap on the wrist for this, but clearly they had scared themselves over it already. He could get away with giving them suspensions with a vague reason in the writeup. He certainly didn’t want to involve the Dora Milaje if he didn’t have to. Tumeli would be just as displeased with him as with the two hapless employees.</p><p>“All right, seems like no real harm done, no information leaked outside the perimeter. Hand over the phone, Anthony. I have to confiscate it. I’ll document what you’ve got in there, download the logs, and wipe it.”</p><p>Aka had urged Anthony when they were on the escalator to hide the phone in his pocket so no one would see. Now, he drew it out slowly and placed it on the desk.</p><p>Lele stared at the squashed mess of metal, glass, and plastic. “What happened to it?” he asked in astonishment.</p><p>“Visitor 7H,” Anthony said quietly.</p><p>“One of them <em>caught</em> you doing this? Rog—<em>Holden</em> caught you?”</p><p>“Sort of,” Anthony admitted.</p><p>“It was 7R, actually,” Aka clarified. ”She overheard us arguing about it, I’m pretty sure. I didn’t know she spoke Wakandan.”</p><p>“She speaks like fifteen or twenty languages, why wouldn’t Wakandan be one of them? They were up there together and confronted you?</p><p>“Yes. I’m sorry.”</p><p>“Then what did he do, drop the phone off the roof onto the street?” Mifuna asked, poking at the remains.</p><p>“He crushed it with one hand,” Aka informed him.</p><p>Lele shook his head. “That should teach you. He could have broken your wrist just as easily.”</p><p>“He would never do such a thing. Captain Am—”</p><p>Aka cut him off. “He told you not to call him that!”</p><p>Mifuna leaned his head on his hand. Great, another security violation to add to the list.</p><p>“I don’t care if a lion appears to be a tame, cuddly, law-abiding lion; you refrain from poking him with a stick,” Lele emphasized. “He’s dangerous no matter what. Mr. Holden has been through a lot in the past couple of months, and is apparently in the midst of some changes in his life. Plus he’s here clandestinely. Don’t make assumptions about how he’s going to behave, N’Duren.”</p><p>“They were both calm. Visitor 7R seemed less sympathetic,” Aka said.</p><p>“So much for taking care of this in-house,” Mifuna said, sitting back in his chair and raising his eyes to the ceiling. “You’ve drawn high-level attention to what you did.”</p><p>At that moment, the office door opened. Lele frowned when he saw the movement and called out, “We’re in a private conf—” He broke off when Kola slipped into the room.</p><p>The agent closed the door behind him and asked Mifuna, “Have they already given you their version of what happened today?” He noted the folded phone on the desk.</p><p>“Yes. You were up there too?”</p><p>“Background coverage. I apologized to the visitors after these two idiots left,” Kola said, not acknowledging either of the miscreants. Anthony cringed. Aka sat up straighter and looked pained.</p><p>“I dislike having to apologize for someone else’s failures,” Kola added.</p><p>“How angry are they?” Lele asked.</p><p>“Only annoyed, really. I assured them that this young man is merely foolish, not malicious.” He finally turned his attention to Aka and Anthony. “You two are lucky. They are being much more good-natured about this than I would be in their position.”</p><p>Mifuna remembered to introduce Kola to Widenka and N’Duren, which was done with tight nods of acknowledgement rather than the normal friendly pleasantries.</p><p>Kola told them, “Now that you know who I am, I’ll ask you kindly to refrain from burning my cover if you see me again as a maintenance worker.”</p><p>“I doubt you’ll have to worry about that,” Mifuna said. “Odds seem excellent these two will be rushed out the door as soon as Tumeli is told what happened.” The employees in question looked stricken.</p><p>“Maybe not,” Kola said. “Like I said, they’re lucky. The visitors asked me to recommend that they be disciplined but keep their jobs. For some reason 7H and 7R believe they can be redeemed. I think they also pity them.”</p><p>Anthony and Aka glanced at each other in wonder and relief.</p><p>“We’ll see whether that recommendation will sway Tumeli,” Kola added.</p><p>“I can assure her that I’ve learned my lesson,” Anthony piped up.</p><p>“You’ll definitely be reprimanded and suspended, and you’ve certainly lost your expensive phone,” Mifuna said. He turned to Kola. “Is that enough of a deterrent?”</p><p>Kola shrugged. “The Leader might conclude that dismissal will be the necessary consequence to get through to him,” he warned.</p><p>“I’ve already heard something worse than ‘You are dismissed,’” Anthony declared. “If I ever consider violating the rules again, I’d think about what Cap—uh, Mr. Holden said, and I would never go through with it.”</p><p>Kola and Mifuna regarded the young man curiously. Aka looked like she knew what he was going to say.</p><p>“He threatened you?” Kola asked.</p><p>“No. He said he was disappointed in us.” Anthony actually shuddered a little. “It made me feel terrible. I never want to feel that way again.”</p><p>Kola allowed himself a smirk. “Like hearing your favorite uncle tell you he’s disappointed.”</p><p>“More like his highness. Not only someone I look up to, but a superhero too.”</p><p>Mifuna stood and exchanged a glance with Kola, who nodded. It was time for all of them to head out, to face a soon-to-be-disappointed Dora Milaje leader. He was certainly not looking forward to the meeting.</p><p>“Anthony, your fixation on heroes led you to do something that’s gotten you into serious trouble,” Lele said. “It remains to be seen if that same hero worship can get you out.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0018"><h2>18. The Floodgates</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Natasha and Steve wind up their epic first day together after her return to life and his return to their timeline.</p><p>Rating: Teen and Up<br/>Content Note: Sexual themes</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Steve and Natasha sat satisfied in his guest apartment’s dining area, contemplating the remains of the array of finger foods they’d been snacking on. The stocked kitchen had yielded dates, cheeses, cherry oranges, bread, chocolates, Gabon nuts, and other delicious though unidentified local delicacies.</p><p>“You want some more?” he asked, pushing a plate of chocolates closer to her.</p><p>She raised a hand to signal no. “Delicious, but I’ve spoiled my dinner already.”</p><p>“That hasn’t happened to me in a very long time,” he said with a smirk. “But that reminds me. You get food as a patient. I guess I’ll have to mask up and go out and forage. I don’t feel like cooking this evening.”</p><p>“I have you covered for tonight at least,” Nat said. “I asked Sedisi earlier today to request extra for dinner, to share with you. I’ll send you mine, too. Oof.”</p><p>Steve was surprised. “You don’t want to eat together?”</p><p>“Let’s give ourselves time on our own instead,” she said carefully. “It’s been an epic conversation. I think we should let it settle, and then sleep on it. We’ve made enough progress for one day.”</p><p>“Oh.” He was hurt. The last thing he wanted was to spend the evening—and the night—without her. “All right, if you say so. But I feel so . . . We should . . .” He stared forlornly at her as he came to an end in his ability to describe his thoughts and emotions. But this was Natasha; words were often unnecessary, and now she understood him better than ever.</p><p>Natasha saw disappointment and yearning written on his face, honest expressions he had clearly suppressed in the past. As much as she rejoiced in his openly wanting to be with her, she believed it would be best to put on the brakes.</p><p>“You asked me whether I wanted our relationship to grow in the future, not necessarily right now. Were you hedging for my sake, or for yours?” she asked.</p><p>“Yours. I didn’t want you to feel any pressure.”</p><p>“I don’t need that hedge.” She paused and took a deep breath. “It feels very strange for me, with my history, to say this, but I will. I’m committed to making a deeper relationship with you work. As long as it’s what we both want.”</p><p>Even though her earlier confession of love was seared into his mind—in the best way possible—still, Steve couldn’t quite believe his ears. He concentrated on listening rather than throwing himself into her arms.</p><p>“Whenever you’re truly ready, I want to move forward,” she said. “I have my own fears and problems that we’ll have to deal with. But I’ve had a reset that gives me some confidence. Right now, you’re the one who needs time to be sure. To become free of the past.”</p><p>“How many times over the years have you said to me, ‘Life is short, Rogers,’?” he asked. “Now you’re telling me to wait? Maybe we should just go for it.” Looking at her, glowing with life and warmth, he felt lightheaded. All he wanted was to hold her, love her, and never let go.</p><p>“Steve, where did you sleep last night?” Natasha asked quietly.</p><p>He looked down and sighed. “With my chief complication.”</p><p>“That’s what I thought,” she said. “Don’t you think it would be best to let a little time pass before jumping into someone else’s bed?” </p><p>“I’ve spent most of my life not being in anyone else’s bed,” he said pointedly. “I want to make up for lost time.”</p><p>She was a taken aback at his vehemence. And a little turned on.</p><p>“You are incredibly tempting, believe me,” she said, resisting the urge to go sit on his lap and lavish his face with kisses. “But the last thing I want is to screw this up, charge ahead only to have some twisted conflict from our pasts come back to haunt us. We can take it easy. Not everything has to be a scheduled mission with a defined objective.”</p><p>“I guess we don’t have a lot of practice <em>not</em> taking action, and having that be OK,” Steve said. “Sitting around during the past few years meant being depressed about the Snap, and frustrated about being unable to do anything about it.”</p><p>“Yes. We’re in a different world now,” Natasha asserted. “Add it up: the Blip, the defeat of Thanos, your withdrawal from the team, my coming back, our hiding out here. Our lives are completely reset, turned upside down. We need time to get used to that.”</p><p>“I know,” he admitted. “A person can’t process everything at once. That’s something I learned from Sam, and I passed it on during the work I did with people. The human psyche needs time.”</p><p>“If you can’t stand not having an agenda, we can make one. Being in nature, thinking about life, and talking to wise people are healthy actions. We can also, y’know, go out and have some fun.”</p><p>“Us? Have fun? Surely you jest.”</p><p>“Don’t call me Shirley.”</p><p>“I understood that reference,” he said with a twinkle in his eye.</p><p>She smiled at the repeated remark from over a decade before, though it seemed longer, a lifetime ago. In many ways, they had been different people then.</p><p>“You’re adorable. But seriously. We have the priceless advantage of being here in Wakanda, where we don’t have to worry about literally anything, for as long as we want. We deserve to take a breather.”</p><p>He was still dubious. “To get over our exes and our traumas and whatever, do we really need to delay our own relationship?”</p><p>“Look at where we’ve been,” Natasha urged. “The last few months in this timeline were lived at full speed. Your past several months in 1949 were nerve-racking. Back in the dark years, we lived in constant sorrow and anxiety. Before that, things were also pretty tightly wound, for much of our lives. You and I have forgotten how to relax, if we ever really knew. How to be ourselves. To let go.”</p><p>“OK, fine, you’re making good points,” Steve admitted. “You tend to do that. T’Challa also strongly suggested today that we should regard ourselves as on vacation. How long a break do we need before our heads are on straight?”</p><p>“A few months, probably. Let you get over Peggy, let me get over . . . all kinds of stuff. We can spend time together, of course. Lots of it, even. But we should meet new people and learn new things. And make sure we’re not clinging to each other because we’re adrift without our old jobs and friends. Make sure we’re not lost without enemies, and wars.”</p><p>“Right now, I don’t feel lost at all,” Steve said.</p><p>“Me either,” agreed Natasha. “But let’s see how we feel tomorrow, and the next day, and the next.”</p><p>They both jumped a little at a polite double knock on the door. Steve answered it and found a small, birdlike person in an orange sarong-like dress smiling up at him.</p><p>“Pardon, Mr. Holden,” the elderly woman said in heavily accented English. “I am Gana, the chief cook.”</p><p>“I am happy to meet you, Gana. Please call me Steve.”</p><p>“I bring you a menu for your meals for the next week. Please to mark your choices every day and put by the door in the morning. For tonight, do you wish the snapper filet, the goat stew, or the doro wat?”</p><p>“Thank you. I didn’t know I would get meals during my stay. You are very kind. Tonight my companion doesn’t want dinner—she had plenty of snacks. So I’ll have whatever she was going to have. I’m not very picky.”</p><p>Natasha appeared next to him. Gana grinned at her. “Hello, ‘Kathryn.’ You are going to let this one steal your food?”</p><p>“I am. Anything he wants,” she answered with a chuckle. “I’m surprised you already know my new name.”</p><p>“Everyone in the secure areas has already been told. OK, I send your doro wat here instead. Extra big portion,” she said, looking Steve up and down.</p><p>They said their thank-yous and goodbyes. After the door closed, Nat stayed near it.</p><p>“I should go rest and be quiet,” she said. “The only people I’ve talked with before today are Sedisi, Shuri, Dr. M’Gaji, and a few words with Gana. The prescription is for me to stay calm. They don’t want my nervous system agitated. No emotional upsets.”</p><p>“They shouldn’t have let you see me, then,” he said, feeling a little guilty.</p><p>“You’re special. And it would have upset me more if I hadn’t gotten to talk to you.” She sighed a little and turned again toward the door.</p><p>What she’d said about taking it slow made sense; still, Steve almost begged her to stay. She was more attractive to him than ever, on many levels. But he didn’t want to be that guy who was always pushy, physically or otherwise. He tried to make light of the situation but determine where they stood.</p><p>“We accomplished a lot for one day, including several good hugs. No kissing yet, though, is my understanding.”</p><p>She sighed again, harder. “Correct. We haven’t even gone on a first date.”</p><p>“Come on, Nat. Can’t we declare ourselves beyond ‘dating’?” he exclaimed. “That’s for getting to know someone. We know each other better than a lot of married couples.”</p><p>“That’s because of the extreme situations we’ve been through, the nature of our work,” she said.</p><p>“Doesn’t make it not true,” he argued.</p><p>Natasha stood her ground. “Steve, I want to try normal things, at a normal pace. Like normal people. I’m suggesting we allow our friendship to evolve into something different over several weeks, or months. Instead of converting ourselves into lovers within a day or two.”</p><p>She took his hands again. As they regarded one another in silence, they relaxed into the happiness they’d felt earlier, remembering the amazing revelations of the day.</p><p>“My head agrees with you,” he said. “My heart doesn’t. But if that’s what you want, we’ll forego the kissing for awhile.”</p><p>“We have to consider that level of intimacy could open the floodgates. Sweep us away.”</p><p>“A reservoir of feeling built up over a decade. What we thought was unrequited love.”</p><p>“Yes. Ten years of longing, and a lot of unintentional foreplay.” She remembered a certain evening alone together almost seven years before, in Romania, that had been both very cold and very hot. “Quite a combination. Possibly explosive.”</p><p>“I’m looking forward to it,” Steve said, in a low, rough voice two degrees from a growl.</p><p>Nat studied his face, which betrayed no trace of teasing. Her knees grew a little weak at the prospect. She was in love, it had been a long time, he was beautiful, and the way he was looking at her . . . She strove to maintain her cool.</p><p>“I’ll see you tomorrow after I finish my daily testing and exercises. We can do lunch. You know, like real people.” </p><p>He relented. “I trust that you know best. I’ll get to see you, at least. As long as I have you in my life some way, I’ll be fine.”</p><p>“I think that no matter what happens, I’ll always be fine,” Natasha said. “Now that I know.”</p><p>“Now that you know, what?”</p><p>“That you’ll go to the ends of the Earth for me, and beyond. And why.”</p><p>They embraced, tightly but chastely, and she leaned up to brush another gentle kiss on his lips before slipping out the door.</p><p>Steve closed the door behind her, then rested his forehead against the hard, dark wood. Natasha was right about taking things easy. He was focused on her and their literally incredible new beginning, yet imagining the intimacy he desired still brought up other memories. Very recent ones, of the woman he’d left behind, and their life together as husband and wife. He did need time to let Peggy go, for good.</p><p>His mind raced with the many romantic things he could have said to Nat in parting, if only he hadn’t been so tongue-tied. Then he calmed himself with the thought that he could tell her tomorrow. Or the next day. Or the next.</p><p>Now they knew, and they had all the time in the world.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0019"><h2>19. Happy Hour</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Steve and T’Challa get to know each other better. The king confides his turmoil concerning the Snap and Blip, Steve explains what the hell he was thinking in his time stunts, and they discuss the new Cap.</p><p>Rating: Teen and Up<br/>Content Note: Alcohol consumption</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Steve walked into T’Challa’s private living room holding a glass of Teeling, neat. In the late afternoon the space felt especially light and modern, yet somehow cozy with classic Wakandan touches. High-tech architectural design seamlessly melded with beautifully crafted antique artifacts and traditional fabrics.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The king followed him into the high-ceilinged space and raised his own glass of the Irish whiskey. “In the European fashion, I propose a toast,” he said. “In honor of your successful rescue of Ms. Romanov, your safe return to Wakanda, and a pleasant sojourn here for both of you. Is that too much for one toast?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think this whiskey can stand up to as much as you want to put on it,” Steve said, inhaling its fragrance.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Both men raised their glasses and then took a sip. T’Challa rolled the spirit around in his mouth and nodded. “A fine liquor. I do not drink often, so when I do I prefer something of high quality. I hope this meets with your approval.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s excellent.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good. I trust it will help make our cocktail hour pleasant.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m honored. I was surprised to get an invitation so soon.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know you only arrived yesterday, but I will admit that I am very curious about your recent adventures.” He gestured to a pair of elaborately carved chairs upholstered in an unusual leather, and both men took a seat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I thought a few drinks might entice you to tell some stories, and divulge your future plans,” the king continued.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve smiled down into his glass. “About that. I have a confession to make.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I am all ears, as they say.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can’t get drunk.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>T’Challa looked at him askance. “Because of your belief system? Your moral code?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not at all. I’d honestly love to be able to. It’s physical. My body processes out alcohol extremely quickly. Even if I were to chug this whole bottle—which would be a terrible waste—I’d only feel buzzed for a few minutes before my system would return me to normal. Believe me, I’ve tried.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The king laughed. “I had better watch myself, then. I can indeed get drunk and I would not want to make my own tipsy confessions to a sober man. It is only amusing if we are both impaired.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know. Sorry to disappoint. If I got hold of some of Thor’s otherworldly spirits, those would do it. Perhaps the next time I see him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve stopped abruptly. It was extremely unlikely he would ever meet the Asgardian again. When he next visited Earth, he would be told by the Avengers what had happened with Cap. There would be no secure way to contact Thor—and no way to ensure his silence about Steve’s whereabouts even if they did speak. The method of retirement he’d chosen required sacrifices, and giving up friends was likely the most painful.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>T’Challa guessed at his companion’s thoughts. He wondered whether the American had fully considered the implications of his disengagement, which the king had been briefed on already. Though there had been no announcement nor even a rumor about what had happened at Avengers headquarters the week before, the king’s network of sources gave him accurate intelligence about many governments and key organizations.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rather than inquire further into a situation he wasn’t supposed to know about, T’Challa took another tack. “Shuri and M’Gaji have been very protective of our recently arrived friend, so I have not spoken to Ms. Romanov yet. How is she today?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Amazing,” Steve said enthusiastically. “She says she feels fine, in fact better than before. Not just because the world situation has improved since she . . .” He still couldn’t quite say it. “Apparently the restoration process was beneficial, both physically and emotionally.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It was not only the restoration on Vormir, I am sure. And her improvement is beneficial for you, as well,” T’Challa said, in typical cryptic fashion.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course. It’s wonderful to see a good friend happy.” Steve felt uncomfortable with the turn of the conversation and took refuge in the Teeling.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The king had another sip of the mellow drink and smiled inwardly. Rogers was unwilling to acknowledge that he and Romanov shared more than friendship. Perhaps they had not yet admitted it to one another. T’Challa had noted the depth of their partnership and the energy between them years before, though the two had acted professionally. He trusted they would be able to work things out, without their past obstacles.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Natasha and I have spent time on your lovely terrace, but we hope Dr. M’Gaji will clear her soon to leave the palace,” Steve said. “It’d be pleasant to walk around the city. Maybe we can go further, to waterfalls and other places we’ve always wanted to see in Wakanda. Before, there was always something pressing. Usually pretty dire.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Whenever you wish. Just let Leader Tumeli know. She will make security arrangements and ensure you have a hovercraft and pilot at your disposal.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re extremely kind. We’re to meet with Okoye and Tumeli tomorrow. Natasha is looking forward to seeing them again, in better circumstances than previously.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hefting a bottle from the table beside him, T’Challa asked, “Would you care for more?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you, yes. One advantage to my condition is that I can enjoy the third glass of the good stuff just as well as the first.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You might indulge your host and feign intoxication, reveal some of your secrets.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe,” Steve said with a chuckle. “What do you want to know?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I am sure that returning the Infinity Stones, and everything else you may have done along the way, would be very interesting. But my chief curiosity is where you went when you left here last week, and what happened there. You said you were gone several months.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve obliged. Perhaps he told the king more than was strictly necessary, but even if he was not affected physiologically by the alcohol, the friendly conversation had mellowed and relaxed him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He concluded after a few minutes, “I left 1949 the morning after working out how she’d make my alias disappear from that time.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>T’Challa found the tale fascinating, both from a sociological standpoint and as an illumination of Rogers’s motives and character. It partially explained why his method of retiring from public life was not well thought out; he had never intended to return permanently to the present. But the story left another mystery.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“May I ask you a possibly objectionable question, Steve?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Go ahead. I’ll pretend to be drunk.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You are highly intelligent, and brilliant in gaming out scenarios and strategies. Why didn’t some of the inherent problems in a move to the past occur to you before you got there?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve asked myself that question many a time. After the Battle of Earth, I felt I was making rational decisions, but I was more impaired by grief than I realized. I remember back when my mother died, I didn’t think straight for a couple of months, though I was convinced I was competent. I assumed that with age and experience my mind would be less stressed by the death of someone important to me. That wasn’t true.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>T’Challa looked at him keenly. “I am surprised. I have been assured that you and Mr. Stark had overcome your differences in the end, but I did not think you were personally close.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve set his glass down and did not meet the king’s eye. “I regretted his death very much, and the world lost a great man. But it wasn’t primarily Tony that shook me up.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah. I see.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes.” He closed his eyes briefly. “The period when I was planning my departure—escape, really—was after she didn’t return from Vormir. I wasn’t quite in my right mind. When I brought her back here, I was already committed to my plan. And I thought Natasha would be better off without me around.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“May I venture a guess that she does not agree?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve glanced at him and gave a half smile. “She does not.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good,” said the king.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I have another not-drunken confession to make. Something that was maybe a bad idea, at least the way I went about it.” Steve swirled the whiskey in his glass.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Claiming your shield?” the king replied with a chuckle.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve looked up. “You already know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course. The Design Group headquarters has comprehensive surveillance. We knew at the time you were taking it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No one cared to stop me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not at all. We made the replacement for you. If you needed to retrieve it without telling us why, it is of no consequence. I was confident that someday you would explain.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I apologize for stealing it. Mostly out of expedience. You weren’t surprised I didn’t have it with me yesterday?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know already what happened to it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes. You understand that one of my informants is Sgt. Barnes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I didn’t, but of course it makes sense. He owes you . . . everything.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I would dispute who commands his greatest loyalty, and why, but he is indeed grateful and has many ties to the Wakandan people.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I didn’t tell him everything, you know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>T’Challa raised an eyebrow. “That is apparent from your presence here. For someone with a reputation for, shall we say, simplicity and forthrightness, I have observed that you are quite subtle.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s an old reputation that has lingered, but has its advantages. People don’t expect me to be any good at deceit.” Steve looked the king in the eye. “Are you disappointed that I gave the shield to Sam?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not at all. It was yours to do with as you wished.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I never saw it that way. I thought it should only be used if something happened to the original.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Indeed you did. I was surprised when you refused to take it when you had given the other up in Siberia. And that you chose not to wield it in the Battle of Wakanda.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The shield is a symbol of Captain America, and I was no longer that. ”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The new shield has a variety of appearance capabilities.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I still didn’t feel right about using it, and anyway I thought it should be preserved for the future. We did need it when the original was destroyed.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>T’Challa looked up, reminiscing. “Indeed. I will never forget the moment when I walked out of the portal and saw you holding the splintered half of the famous shield. Standing alone against the enemy and his multitudes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I have rarely been so relieved to see anyone as I was to see you three, and Sam flying above you. I don’t think I’ve ever thanked you properly—we had little time at the funeral, and I was distracted. In fact, though it may be a little late, may I also propose a toast?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Feel free.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve raised his glass. “To all who came to the world’s aid in the Battle of Earth. Including those who Returned in the Blip. Welcome back.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They both drank again. “Thank you,” T’Challa said. “It is a strange thing, to have been gone for so long and then to Return, without memory of the interim. I have encountered many challenges and dilemmas in relation to this.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Challenges on a personal level, or as a leader?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Both. I hope you and I might meet again soon, when I am sober and we have more time. I would seek your advice on these matters.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Taken aback, Steve said, “It would be a privilege, but I can’t imagine I would have anything helpful to say to a king.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It is one of your few shortcomings, Capt—er, Steve. You underestimate your value beyond your physical and military capabilities.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve generally ignored popular acclaim, but when praised by an individual he respected he always grew uncomfortable. He turned the conversation back to T’Challa. “I sympathize with you about the difficulties of the Blip. I was in the past for months, so the transition is more settled in my mind, but I realize that for you and everyone else, it was only weeks ago.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Indeed. And in my memory the Battle of Wakanda was also a few weeks ago, not five years. Suddenly I awaken on the battlefield with half my army. The enemy forces and many of our allies have disappeared, the place is overgrown. Those who Remained are overjoyed to see us, but we are immediately informed of the desperate need to transport to the USA as reinforcements in the ultimate battle.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It must have been incredibly confusing and distressing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Later, amid our relief in victory, we who were gone discover that Remained family and friends have aged while we have not. We see that they suffer from years of grief. Their elation at our Return is overwhelming, but it does not erase what went before.” T’Challa set down his glass, frowning at it. “I am not even sure I should be king now. Okoye and my mother insist that they were only caretakers, but it seems unfair to assume power from them.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve was surprised to see T’Challa’s turmoil, something he had never observed in the always self-possessed young man. Maybe it would indeed be good for the king to have an outsider to talk with, someone with no particular stake in the situation.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re right, these matters are too complicated to get into right now. But if at another time you’d find a friendly ear helpful, I’m at your service.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you, Steve,” T’Challa said. He still appeared downcast, rather than reverting to the gently benign expression he usually wore. “I cannot begin to tell you how grateful I am, as one who perished in the Snap. Grateful to my own people who led and persevered in Wakanda during the darkest times. And to all the Avengers who endeavored to bring us back.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The king really must be a little tipsy, Steve thought. He spoke clearly and with his habitual excellent syntax and vocabulary, but wasn’t guarding his face or his words as closely as usual.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know,” T’Challa continued, “As a token of Wakanda’s respect and gratitude, we could make you another shield, in an improved vibranium alloy. Customized to any form you choose. For you alone.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve was shocked. “Your generosity is boundless, your highness.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Now, now,” the king said, shaking his head. “You had been doing so well.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve was confused a moment, then realized what he was talking about. “Ah, sorry. T’Challa. I thank you very much, but I don’t want, or need, such a shield.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Never again?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Never.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>T’Challa looked into his companion’s eyes for several seconds, and found steadfast conviction. “I will admit, Steve, that makes me a little sad. But it is selfish of me. I do not wish to lose you as a comrade in arms, or as a leader, available to protect the people of the world. I am gratified that the current shield will be put to good use, however. If you deem Sgt. Wilson worthy of wielding it, I place my confidence in him also.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You should. He’s a good man, and extremely capable.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The government of Wakanda shall send a message of support when the news is finally announced. He will face much opposition.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Natasha thinks so too. I don’t believe it will be so bad, but anything you could do to help him I would very much appreciate.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Did you leave him instructions for the nanotechnology that controls the shield’s appearance?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve chuckled. “Sam can figure that out for himself. I set it to remain in the classic pattern. At some point he’ll touch the strap mechanism in the right spot to trigger the holographic menu. It’ll be a nice surprise.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>T’Challa smiled. “We will see how it goes. One final toast for our cocktail hour, then. To the new Captain America.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And to his success.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The men raised their glasses, then tossed back the last of the fine whiskey. Steve had managed to steer the conversation away from his future plans. Not out of a desire for secrecy, but because he didn’t have any yet. He felt hopeful, however, that his new friend might have some good ideas.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0020"><h2>20. Renewing Friendships</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Natasha and Steve meet with General Okoye and her subordinate Tumeli (OC). The conversation covers the practicalities of their security in Wakanda, their future plans, the news that the remaining Avengers are making an announcement the next day, and the prospect of new and deeper friendships. And Nat finds out that somebody has been keeping his Worthiness from her.</p><p>Rating: Teen and Up<br/>Content Note: one F bomb</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Natasha and Steve sat drinking tea at a table on the palace’s sunny rooftop terrace. They’d arrived early for a meeting with General Okoye and Leader Tumeli. Today they both wore locally made tunics and comfortable trousers found in their apartment closets. They still didn’t exactly blend in, but at least looked at home. The terrace was deserted—not even a watcher lurked in the shrubbery.</p><p>Steve offered to duck out so Natasha could have a private discussion with the two Dora Milaje. “I know you and Okoye became friends when she was an Avenger,” Steve said. “If I’m not there you don’t have to speak English. And I don’t want you to feel like some guy is barging in.”</p><p>“You’re not just some guy. I appreciate the offer, but you should be here,” she insisted. “Okoye will be glad to get to know you better in peacetime. And you should talk to Tumeli, since she’s in charge of our security. She now ranks just below Ayo, who was Returned in the Blip. I’m sure Okoye and I will have a personal meeting soon. Like you with T’Challa yesterday.”</p><p>Steve shook his head. “I haven’t gotten get my head wrapped around that. We’re scheduled to talk next week for a couple of hours, too. And there’s a bigger meeting tomorrow I just heard about before coming up here. Which you’re invited to, if the doc will allow it.”</p><p>Nat’s eyebrows went up. “What’s that about?”</p><p>“There’s an announcement about the Avengers’ future scheduled mid-morning, New York time. That implies they’ll talk about Sam.”</p><p>“And therefore you too.”</p><p>He nodded. She regarded him a moment.</p><p>“What?” Steve asked. He knew the tenor of that look but not exactly what it was about.</p><p>“This represents something of a point of no return. If you want take-backsies, you need to get on the horn to HQ right about now and fess up.”</p><p>“No doubt they’re pissed off at me for quitting. I imagine they’d be even more so if I popped back in again, because I deceived everyone. I might not be welcome at all.”</p><p>“Oh, please. You’re being obtuse. They’d be super annoyed <em>and</em> jump for joy. You’re Steve Fucking Rogers. It’s up to you. Are you sure you want to stay out?”</p><p>“Positive,” he said. “I was wrong when I suggested to you that maybe no one should do the Avengers’ job,” he admitted. ”But I’m convinced they don’t need me to be involved. The newer people and Banner can handle it. I’m all in for peace, love, and understanding now. What about you?”</p><p>“Still not feeling any impulse to go back. I want to figure out something different to do that doesn’t involve bullshit, intrigue, or deadly weapons.”</p><p>“Something here in Wakanda, do you think?”</p><p>“Maybe. Could be somewhere else.”</p><p>“Any idea where?”</p><p>“Wherever you are.” She smiled shyly.</p><p>Her words, and the loving look that accompanied them, brought a lump to his throat and a warmth to his chest. Before he could respond, he saw in his peripheral vision two figures crest the top of the south escalator. Right on time.</p><p>The officers, unarmed but in uniform, strode across the terrace with their accustomed confidence that bordered on hauteur. Natasha and Steve rose to greet them. The general’s steps faltered as she drew close. She stopped and stared at Nat with an enigmatic expression.</p><p>Tumeli, who was huskier, taller, and looked about ten years younger than the general, slid her eyes sideways toward her superior, concerned at Okoye’s distress.</p><p>“Hello, Okoye,” Natasha said softly.</p><p>Okoye stifled her emotion and said, tightlipped, “Greetings, Ms. Sheen.”</p><p>“I’m very glad to see you. And you, Tumeli.”</p><p>“Good afternoon, madame,” Tumeli said, her voice resonant and dignified despite her youth. “May I ask what title or rank we should use for you?”</p><p>“Absolutely none. I’m very much between jobs. Ms. Sheen is fine, and if you don’t mind lax protocol when it’s just us, please call me Natasha.”</p><p>Okoye tore her eyes away from Nat and turned to Steve. “Mr. Holden. Please allow me to welcome you back to Wakanda, on behalf of the national security services and armed forces. And myself.”</p><p>“Thank you, General. Good to see you both again, in better circumstances than last month. It’s a privilege to be here, and to meet with you and Leader Tumeli. I would appreciate it if you would call me Steve,” he said, looking at each woman directly. He was careful to use scrupulous courtesy in Wakanda. “Shall we all have a seat?”</p><p>The four arranged themselves at the table. With a gesture Steve offered to pour tea from the waiting pot into their cups. Okoye regarded him with dismay and Tumeli rose immediately and took over the tea distribution duties.</p><p>“You should have let him. He has the longest arms,” Natasha said, to lighten the mood.</p><p>“You are honored guests. Let us take care of you,” the general said sternly. Tumeli looked at her sideways again. Although they were outsiders, Okoye knew and respected both of them—why was she so uptight?</p><p>“We have been thoroughly taken care of so far,” Steve assured her. “In fact, Natasha and I have begun to discuss how we might be useful here in Wakanda. Accepting your generosity will be OK for another week or two, like a normal visit, but after that I’ve got to figure out how to pay our way. I’ll feel like a chump if I can’t even feed us.”</p><p>“His highness has made it clear that you should have no worry about such things. I reiterate that position,” said Okoye.</p><p>“You understand we’re very independent,” Natasha countered. “We’d rather not impose even in the short term, but we’re in a bind because we don’t really exist. As far as anyone outside here will know, I’m dead and he’s an old man in another timeline. So we can’t get our stuff or access our accounts. It’s like when we were outlaws with our assets frozen.”</p><p>“You had safe houses, caches, and contacts on every continent though, to get us started,” Steve noted. “We’re sort of stuck here, though it’s a great place to be stuck. We’re like newborns, relying on the kindness of strangers.”</p><p>“The kindness of friends,” Tumeli corrected, but gently.</p><p>“That’s true,” Steve conceded.</p><p>“It is not kindness at all,” Okoye insisted. “The people of Wakanda owe both of you an unpayable debt.”</p><p>“You do sound like the king,” Steve said.</p><p>“He and I are of one mind about this. As is the queen mother.” She paused and looked around the table, assessing whether she should continue. “Regarding this debt, I have the support of key individuals to wage a public awareness campaign. To ensure that Natasha Romanov is properly acclaimed for enabling the Return of half our people, including our king and princess.” She turned to Nat and said fiercely, “It is distressing that your sacrifice has been largely overlooked.”</p><p>Natasha was taken aback by her indignation, and sought to tamp it down. “It’s fine. We won. I’m alive and back on Earth, on my own terms. I can let it go.”</p><p>“I cannot,” Okoye said. “Yet again the crucial contribution of a brave woman has been ignored while men’s actions are celebrated. It is important to history, and to the future, that this be corrected.” Tumeli vigorously nodded agreement.</p><p>Okoye seemed so upset about the sexism she perceived that Steve wondered if he were still welcome in the conversation. Under the table, Nat touched his knee to signal him to stay.</p><p>The general felt the awkwardness and spoke to rectify it. “You are righteous in this matter. It required great initiative, courage, and resolve to bring Natasha back. This is the highest honor that could have been given to her, and you accomplished it when no one else dared try. You also fulfilled the responsibility of a leader to leave none of your people behind, if at all possible. For these and many other meritorious actions, we regard you as no less deserving than she.”</p><p>“Thank you, General,” Steve said quietly.</p><p>Nat and Steve suddenly realized the likely reason for the general’s mood. Her warrior code frowned upon open sentimentality, so she masked her feelings about the rescue of her friend. Relief and joy were displaced by stern defense of a comrade’s honor, which was acceptable to express in front of her subordinate. Her intensity showed how moved she was by seeing Natasha alive.</p><p>“We appreciate your efforts to uphold my . . . legacy,” Nat said.</p><p>Okoye had recovered her poise and sought to move on. “I suggest that we now attack the more practical business of the day, get it out of the way. Leader, brief our visitors on their security situation.”</p><p>Tumeli sat up straight and proceeded to do so, in a high level of detail, using holographic projections to illustrate. The others commented and asked questions when needed. She also handed Natasha and Steve each a new, secure phone—the same sophisticated communication device issued to high-level Wakandan officials.</p><p>At the end of her presentation, Tumeli said glumly, “Finally, there is the unfortunate matter of N’Duren and Widenka. Again, we apologize for this lapse. We have confirmed that there was no transmission of the photographs and the only location of files was on his device. These employees have been punished, not dismissed.”</p><p>“Did you go easy on them because we asked?” Natasha said.</p><p>“Yes, but they also showed genuine remorse and pledged never to disappoint either of you again. In the young man’s case, that pledge is likely to be moot. He received a two-month suspension, and I imagine you will be gone by then.”</p><p>Silence ensued. Natasha broke it. “We may well be here for several months. I don’t plan to return to the US, and we’ve formed no other plans yet.”</p><p>Okoye’s mouth upturned slightly at the corners and her eyes sparkled. “I regard this as excellent news. If you insist upon being ‘useful,’ I can think of multiple projects in security technology that would benefit from your expertise. In a consulting role only, nothing in the field,” she clarified.</p><p>She looked over at Steve with a pained expression. “I suppose we might be able to find something for you to do, as well.”</p><p>Steve had been around Okoye enough to get her arid sense of humor. He and Nat laughed outright, freeing Tumeli to smile too.</p><p>“I’ll be happy to look at whatever you want,” Natasha said. “As for Steve: Well, the first order of business is to get this man Wakandan language instruction.” </p><p>In Wakandan, Okoye said, “But then we will not be able to talk about him without his knowing it.”</p><p>“Does he speak French?” Tumeli asked in French.</p><p>“Oui,” Steve volunteered.</p><p>“There is always Swahili,” Nat said in that language.</p><p>“An excellent choice,” Okoye continued in Swahili, and Tumeli nodded.</p><p>“You’ve got me there; I’m not sure what language that is,” Steve said in English. He spoke to Nat in German. “I suppose if I joke about ‘girl talk’ it will not go well for me?”</p><p>“It would not,” Natasha answered. “Quit while you’re ahead.”</p><p>Tumeli remarked gruffly to Steve in German, “You are fortunate we are not armed.” She was unable to keep up her severe expression and grinned at the surprised Natasha and Steve.</p><p>He threw up his hands and retreated to English. “I’m linguistically surrounded. I need those Wakandan lessons.”</p><p>“I will arrange a tutor,” Tumeli said.</p><p>Okoye added, “If you will be here for some time, we must also teach you protocol for the Wakandan salute so you may properly greet and bid farewell. Natasha learned during my time with the Avengers.”</p><p>Steve was surprised. “I assumed that was only for citizens.”</p><p>“And residents or close allies who merit the privilege.”</p><p>“Oh,” he said, touched. “I’m gratified you consider me worthy. Thank you, I . . . Wow,” he stammered.</p><p>Okoye looked at Natasha and frowned. “Is he kidding?”</p><p>Natasha sighed. “No. He’s really like that.”</p><p>This broke Okoye’s reserve, and she and Tumeli laughed aloud.</p><p>“That he would use the word ‘worthy’ after what happened in the battle is amusing, don’t you think?” Tumeli asked Nat.</p><p>Natasha was confused. “What are you talking about? What happened in which battle?”</p><p>Okoye turned to Steve. “She doesn’t know?”</p><p>He looked down at the table. “It hasn’t come up yet.”</p><p>Tumeli smiled slyly. “I will send her a photograph.”</p><p>Steve was amazed. “There are pictures from the battle?”</p><p>“Indeed. Apparently some of the peripheral combatants managed get out their phones for some quick images. A variety have been posted on social media and news sites.”</p><p>“Oh. I’ve been in an internet-free zone for awhile.”</p><p>“I want to see the Strange portals Steve told me about,” Natasha said eagerly.</p><p>“There are several such photos,” Tumeli informed her. “Blurry and smoky, but our technicians enhanced them. There are also a couple of our Mr. Holden here with the—”</p><p>“You should let him tell her,” Okoye interjected.</p><p>“Steve, what?” Nat insisted.</p><p>He sighed and told Tumeli, “Please text me the photos you’ve got, or a link.”</p><p>To Natasha he said, “Remember the party game a bunch of us played at the tower right before Ultron appeared?”</p><p>“Yeah,” she replied, still confused. She blinked as she started to put two and two together, then grinned as she deduced what they must be talking about. She punched him gleefully in the arm. “I knew it. Thor’s face didn’t lie even if you did. But the hammer was destroyed years ago, so what’s the deal?”</p><p>“Thor brought it back from 2013 Asgard during the time heist. Since he had his new weapon, it was kind of extra. We needed all the help we could get, so I used it.”</p><p>“I’m getting the impression you’re making this far less dramatic and interesting than it was,” Natasha said.</p><p>“He is definitely doing that,” Okoye confirmed.</p><p>“I’ll extract more of the story from him later. Next time you and I meet, you can fill me in on anything he left out. That is, if you have time for frivolous talk like that,” Nat said teasingly.</p><p>“I can certainly make the time,” Okoye said, and paused. The others’ eyes were on her, but she did not continue right away. Her jaw set and her eyes had a peculiar shine. She looked at Natasha, swallowed and finally spoke.</p><p>“I am most pleased that you will be staying for awhile. Given what has happened in our world over the past several years, I value more than ever strong allies. And good friends. Especially those nearly lost.” She paused once more. “I do hope we can visit with one another often in the coming months.”</p><p>“I’d like that,” Natasha said, meeting her eyes. “Friends who understand you, as well as have your back, are golden. The past several weeks has brought that home yet again.” She shared a glance and a little smile with Steve.</p><p>Okoye had always wondered whether there was something romantic between the two. She’d had the vague idea that she might fix Rogers up with a friend—he’d always had a lonely air, and T’Challa was convinced that he would be living in Wakanda for some time. But from what she knew about Natasha’s recent history and current situation, and after observing today’s subtle interactions, she realized they were a serious item. The notion made her smile. These battered and dispossessed people would no doubt have a rough road ahead, but she hoped that with sufficient love, and good counsel, they would persevere. Okoye saw that being a confidante to Natasha might be more valuable to her than a campaign to recognize her heroism.</p><p>“Dr. M’Gaji said she will probably clear you to spend a day away from the palace, later this week,” Okoye said to Nat. “I would be happy to escort you myself on an outing.”</p><p>Tumeli suggested, “You could visit the Wilderness Reserve. By hovercraft the round trip can be made in several hours. Army scouts can guide you to the most exquisite, out-of-the way sites.”</p><p>“That would be wonderful,” Natasha said with a grin. Steve’s face lit up too and he opened his mouth to say something similar, but caught himself. The excursion might be one he shouldn’t intrude on.</p><p>The general noticed. “If Natasha would like, you can join as well, Mr.—er, Steve. We can regard it as a little welcome celebration for both of you, amid the natural beauty of our country.” She made a positive mark in her mental ledger for Rogers. He refrained from attempting to dominate, or at least insert himself into, every event and conversation, as many men did. Truly, she had counted few failings in him a person, which hardly seemed fair in someone with superlative abilities. But it seemed likely she would find out more from Natasha at some point.</p><p>“Of course I want him to come along. He can carry my daypack. Or me, if I get tired,” Nat said breezily.</p><p>“You see what I’m reduced to, General?” Steve complained melodramatically. “Natasha’s mule.”</p><p>“You should regard it as a great honor that she chooses you as her mule,” Tumeli said, deadpan.</p><p>“I have a couple of possible responses to that. I don’t know you very well yet, so I’ll refrain,” he said with a sly smile.</p><p>“Hm. You can tell me later, Mule Man,” Natasha said, as everyone chuckled.</p><p>Okoye observed that behind the banter, electricity crackled between the Americans—something had shifted in their relationship since last she had seen them together, or they were letting others in on their secret. Wistfully, she remembered when W’Kabi had gazed at her as adoringly as she saw Steve looking at Natasha. Even great passions had a way of changing with the tribulations of life.</p><p>The next few months should be very interesting, Okoye thought to herself.</p><p>“The leader and I will leave you at peace for the moment,” the general said. She and Tumeli stood. “We will speak with you again soon, tomorrow afternoon when we analyze the announcement from the Avengers.”</p><p>“I’ll be there,” Steve said.</p><p>“Me too, even if I have to defy M’Gaji,” Natasha declared.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0021"><h2>21. I Heard the News Today</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>The gang in Wakanda assembles to watch the news conference put on by the Avengers in New York. The best-laid plans of Earth's Mightiest Heroes start to go off the rails…</p><p>We hear from T’Challa, Shuri, Natasha, Steve, Okoye, OC Tumeli, Rhodey, and Bruce</p><p>Rating: Teen and Up<br/>Content Note: none</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Three notes:</p><p>1. Rhodey and Bruce's speeches in this chapter are boring to read. Thing is, they are intentionally boring, as Steve and Natasha explain. So please bear with me, I'm trying to be boring on purpose not because I suck as a writer. I think! :-)</p><p>2. I wanted to acknowledge that this is the point where this fic will really start to go off the rails regarding post-Endgame canon. I'm straight up ignoring anything that's been established or will be established by new content in Falcon and Winter Soldier, Black Panther II, Black Widow, etc.  For example, in this chapter I've got a list of the post-Battle of Earth Avengers that is probably "wrong" and certainly the structure and activities I'm positing are totally made up by me. So from here on out it's more of an AU than it even was before. </p><p>3. For those who are wondering when this fic will get back to Steve/Nat personal stuff, I'm shooting for chapter after next, 23. </p><p>Thanks for reading!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>Royal Palace, Wakanda</em>
</p><p>At 16:30 hours, six people gathered in the king’s private briefing room: T’Challa, Shuri, Natasha, Steve, Okoye, and Tumeli. The king set a friendly tone for the meeting with his effusive greeting of Natasha, whom he had not yet seen since her return.</p><p>Nat was pleasantly surprised at his enthusiasm. He had always been a little reserved toward her. This was understandable because she’d tased the bejeezus out of him after turning on him during the Leipzig airport battle. Though he’d had a change of heart about what he was fighting for at that time, sudden betrayal by a supposed ally wasn’t something one forgot easily. But her sacrifice to secure an Infinity Stone seemed to have erased his reticence around her.</p><p>Everyone was comfortable with one another and chatted easily. T’Challa played host, making the meeting something of a party. He had directed a steward to bring glasses of ice-cold juices, followed by two more waiters carrying baskets of hot popcorn.</p><p>“Because it is popular in America to eat this snack during movies,” the king noted, “I thought we would try it this afternoon. We will be watching a presentation that may become entertainingly dramatic.”</p><p>“I don’t know, my brother, whether we will be celebrating after this is over,” cautioned Shuri.</p><p>“Is popped corn only appropriate for movies at which one laughs or cheers?” the king asked Steve with a grin.</p><p>“A buttered tub of corn is always appropriate,” he replied. “But if anyone thinks this is too serious an event to get their hands greasy, I’ll finish theirs. I love popcorn.”</p><p>Okoye complimented the Americans on how they looked in Wakandan attire. Natasha wore a green embroidered sleeveless shift with a huge silky scarf draped in a customary manner across her shoulders. Steve’s long-sleeved blue tunic was handwoven with delicate geometric designs in gray; the way it was tailored to his frame was less traditional. He liked the sandals and matching slacks that went with it—lighter and more comfortable than boots and jeans.</p><p>Shuri squinted and examined Steve’s face. “Do I detect that you are growing a beard again?” He smiled sheepishly and nodded. The princess looked over at Natasha. “I take it you approve?”</p><p>Nat raised an eyebrow. “His facial grooming is none of my business,” she said.</p><p>Shuri rolled her eyes. “Oh, of course not. But he asked you and you said yes, correct?”</p><p>“Maybe.”</p><p>Okoye encouraged everyone to have a seat for a briefing. Steve and Natasha took the far end of the conference table so they could sit close together behind the rest when all were facing the viewscreen.</p><p>The general revealed that Wakanda had been approached about joining an Avengers advisory group. “They asked if we would be willing to meet quarterly for briefing and discussion, as well as give advice at other times,” she explained.</p><p>“Which of you was invited?” Natasha asked.</p><p>“His highness, Princess Shuri, and myself,” Okoye said. “They want all of us signed up as ‘auxiliary’ Avengers who are willing to become active in the field, in case of an extraordinary threat.”</p><p>“Seems like a good idea,” Steve said. “Not that you wouldn’t be willing to pitch in anyhow if an emergency arose, but this keeps you in the loop and leverages your expertise.”</p><p>“The concept seems fine,” T’Challa agreed. “It is the execution that is rather shaky. We heard nothing of this until yesterday. Our informant had no idea contact had been made, and this is an individual it would be obvious to consult before talking to us. It makes us wonder what happened with the other invited advisors. We will find out through our network.”</p><p>“They are playing—how do you say it?—loose and fast with this project,” Shuri noted.</p><p>“I wonder about the decision to make the announcement on Veteran’s Day,” Natasha said. She briefly explained the US holiday to the Wakandans.</p><p>“It highlights a parallel between the Avengers and the armed forces—people who risk their lives to protect their country. Perhaps a play for sympathy from the public,” T’Challa suggested.</p><p>“Yes, but when you say the words ‘Avenger’ and ‘veteran,’ who’s the first person to come to mind?” Nat pointed out. “You’d think they’d want to downplay him. Or are they going to try to capitalize somehow on Steve’s disappearance?”</p><p>Okoye shook her head in disapproval. “One would think they would ask the advisory council invitees for opinions about the announcement, but they did not.”</p><p>“I believe this is going to be a very interesting press conference,” Shuri said.</p><p>Tumeli, who had been busy scanning various channels and feeds, reported that the event was about to start and that dozens of outlets worldwide were carrying it live. Steve and Natasha looked at each other in surprise.</p><p>“Why devote airtime to this, like it’s a major government announcement?” Natasha said. “I would have guessed there’d be a couple of live feeds on niche websites, and everyone else relies on the pool summaries and clips.”</p><p>“Elation at the Return and tensions over how to reintegrate the Returned have lessened by now. People have more time to attend to events beyond their own doorsteps,” said Shuri.</p><p>T’Challa added, “The Blip, the battle, and the aftermath are recent enough to be of intense interest, however. The Snap is further in the past but the trauma lingers. The history and future of the Avengers are tied up with these events. People want reassurance that someone, or some elite group, can be trusted to protect the Earth.”</p><p>Looking up from her computer display, Tumeli suggested they choose the Al Jazeera feed because their cameras also showed the audience. The news conference room, which the network announcer noted was at a Manhattan hotel, was overcrowded. Whoever had planned the event had underestimated attendance.</p><p>Okoye noted that the head of the War Dogs was overseeing a team of analysts elsewhere in the palace, monitoring the coverage and reactions to it. The king would receive a report within a half hour of the event’s end. Commentary after the fact would be analyzed each subsequent day.</p><p>“As our director of outreach, Nakia is currently in the US and will survey all our centers worldwide as well to gauge the opinions of our contacts and clients,” she added.</p><p>Natasha and Steve glanced briefly at one another, impressed anew with the thoroughness of the Wakandan intelligence operation.</p><p>Steve noticed there was zero window dressing at the news conference, not even a logo on the lectern or backdrop curtain. A major change from the entertaining visuals that Stark had always made sure to engineer for events. He wasn’t sure whether this was a positive or negative development.</p><p>A familiar figure, wearing a navy suit and a pinstriped blue tie, walked out from behind the gray backdrop.</p><p>“Here’s Rhodey,” Steve informed the group, gesturing toward the viewscreen. “Looks like the show’s about to go on.” A subtitle identified “Col. James R. Rhodes, US Air Force (retired).” Tumeli turned up the sound.</p><p>* * *</p><p>
  <em>Hilton Midtown, New York City</em>
</p><p>Rhodey stepped up to the faux-wood lectern, a little stiffly due to his hidden exoskeletal assists but with good speed and stability. His colleagues stayed out of sight behind the backdrop, leaving the focus on him alone.</p><p>He scanned the room. There were twice as many attendees as they had anticipated, and a lot more cameras. He felt a twinge of doubt as he wondered whether they should have used the PR firm that Tony used to employ, instead of planning this on their own. The moment passed. The consultants were ridiculously expensive, he’d acted as a spokesman for the Air Force on many an occasion, and this was a simple press conference. It would be fine.</p><p>“Thank you all for being here,” he began. “I’m James Rhodes. You may know me as War Machine. I am retiring from the armed forces to assist in reconstituting the group known as the Avengers. Those of us who remain have been hard at work since the passing of our leader Tony Stark during the Battle of Earth, after his heroic actions saved us all. We thought it was time to update the public on what has transpired in the past month.</p><p>“First, the organization continues to exist, but we are restructuring it to take advantage of our human resources who are still committed to the future of the group. This process is ongoing, but I can announce today that the name will be The Avengers Organization, acronym TAO.”</p><p>There was some muttering in the crowd and the tapping of keys as reporters and bloggers transcribed this factoid and transmitted it to their home offices, or posted on the internet.</p><p>“Questions have been asked about finances,” Rhodey continued. “I am pleased to reveal that Mr. Stark, may he rest in peace, set up a private foundation to provide funding for TAO sufficient to pay expenses for an appropriately sized organization decades into the future. This foundation has benefited from not only Stark Industries but other corporations that Mr. Stark persuaded to invest in the kind of global security only the ‘remarkable people’ of the Avengers can provide.</p><p>“Since the Battle of Earth, we have undertaken three major initiatives. One is cleanup, salvage, and environmental mitigation of the battlefield, along with the first steps toward rebuilding our headquarters facility. We are operating out of rental space nearby. The second is the aforementioned organizational restructuring, along with associated negotiations with governmental groups. More about that later.”</p><p>Some of the assembled journalists were staring into space or checking their email while waiting for something more interesting to happen. They perked up when Rhodey hit his last point.</p><p>“The third initiative was the successful return, ten days ago, of the Infinity Stones to the times and places from which they were taken. Keep in mind these dangerous objects were only retrieved for use in accomplishing the Blip that revived the people that perished in the Snap. The replacing of the stones required the reconstruction of the time travel apparatus, and this project was headed by Dr. Bruce Banner, our next speaker.”</p><p>* * *</p><p>“The stones were returned by an ‘initiative,’ huh? Why don’t you tell the media who actually accomplished it, old buddy?” Natasha complained at the viewscreen. “And he identified Stark as ‘our leader.’ That was throwing some shade.” To Steve, she said, “You should toss your snack basket at Rhodey in protest.”</p><p>He shrugged. “That would be a waste of good food,” he said with a half-smile, and ate some more.</p><p>“It is striking how a man with an exciting name like War Machine is managing to make this presentation extremely dull,” Shuri noted with a frown.</p><p>“That’s probably on purpose,” Steve said through a mouthful of popcorn.</p><p>“Why?” Tumeli asked.</p><p>“They’re trying to work the press,” Natasha said. “He’s giving out a stream of facts—a few important, most trivial. Keeps the attendees busy, and makes them feel like they’re getting great info from a laudably transparent organization. At the same time, he makes the language bureaucratic, routine. The hope is they’ll accept what he says at face value, and be lulled into not asking questions he doesn’t want to answer.”</p><p>“There’s an American phrase, ‘Baffle ‘em with bullshit,’ if you’ll pardon my language,” Steve said. “Rhodey is trying to baffle ‘em with boring bullshit.”</p><p>“There is Banner,” Okoye announced. “Perhaps he will be more forthcoming.”</p><p>* * *</p><p>Bruce emerged from behind the backdrop curtain. Rhodey said, “Please welcome Dr. Banner, who was wounded in the course of performing the counter-Snap that revived our loved ones.”</p><p>The audience murmured and there was a smattering of applause as he came to stand next to Rhodey. He was dressed in a giant business suit and his arm was no longer in a sling, though his hand was bandaged. He smiled at the crowd, enjoying the stir his appearance had caused.</p><p>“Thank you, Colonel. I’m doing great,” Bruce said, gingerly waving his massive injured arm as proof. He was so tall that the microphone on the lectern had no chance of getting anywhere near his face, but he spoke loudly from where he stood and no one had trouble hearing him.</p><p>“As my colleague explained, we had to recreate the so-called ‘time tunnel.’ This was because the primary and portable versions were destroyed in the battle. Since then, we have dismantled it, at least temporarily, as a good-faith gesture. The documentation of how to construct it has been placed under the tightest security. Both the US government and the United Nations have contacted us with concerns about proliferating time travel. We certainly recognize the potential dangers. The apparatus was built only because of the extraordinary need created by the actions and threatened actions of Thanos and his forces. Limitations, regulatory oversight, and protocols are in the process of being negotiated, and we envision finalization soon.”</p><p>Bruce had spoken without his usual diffidence. He obviously thrived in professor mode, and perhaps his outsized stature lent him confidence.</p><p>Rhodey said, “Thank you, Dr. Banner. I wanted to follow up with more detail about the personnel of TAO. First I’d like to confirm that all Avengers and close allies who had previously been accused of criminal or terrorist activity have received pardons. In some cases these were given because of inappropriate charges. In other cases governments recognized the individuals were acting in good faith, and also the pardons were a way to express gratitude for extraordinary service in a time of existential danger for the planet. Some of those pardons occurred posthumously, for those who perished in the Snap. Now that these individuals have Returned, we have asked the UN to take up a resolution with a list of current and former Avengers who are to be regarded as pardoned, worldwide. This resolution is expected to pass unanimously.</p><p>“Second is a rundown of the structure we are forming. There will be several subgroups. Dr. Banner and I will serve full time in an executive and advisory capacity. In the short term, we will be co-directors of the overall organization. This may change as the group evolves. We will also maintain our training so that in extraordinary circumstances, we could become active if needed. There will of course be a corps of administrative staff, technicians, and analysts, as previously. This staff will be managed by Chief Operating Officer Sharon Carter.</p><p>“Current full-time members of the Avengers are Wanda Maximoff aka the Scarlet Witch, Scott Lang aka Ant Man, Hope Van Dyne aka The Wasp, Sam Wilson, and James Barnes.”</p><p>A nervous, slight young woman emerged from behind the backdrop with a stack of stapled briefing papers and began to pass them out to the crowd. It was clear there weren’t enough for everyone.</p><p>Rhodey continued, “We have created an advisory council for individuals who can make significant contributions but for whom full-time service is inappropriate. Council members who have agreed to take active roles if needed are Dr. Stephen Strange, Spider-Man, Valkyrie of New Asgard, and from Wakanda, King T’Challa, Princess Shuri, and General Okoye. Advisory members who are exempt from active duty are Clint Barton aka Hawkeye, Dr. Hank Pym, and Janet Van Dyne.</p><p>“If and when they return to Earth, the following individuals are regarded as eligible for activation as Avengers after briefing: Carol Danvers aka Captain Marvel, Thor, Nebula, and Rocket. Additional Avengers members may be recruited if particular skill sets are identified or enhanced individuals encountered,” he concluded.</p><p>Rhodey and Bruce glanced at each other with satisfaction. The event was going smoothly, they thought. Bruce nodded, confirming it was time to move to the last segment of the conference.</p><p>* * *</p><p>“You can hear voices grumbling in the background of this news feed,” T’Challa noted. “These reporters do not seem happy with the bullshit.”</p><p>On the viewscreen, audience members could be seen flipping through the briefing paper, sharing the scarce document with their neighbors, and discussing it sotto voce. Many were frowning or looking at the speakers with disbelief.</p><p>Tumeli was shuffling windows on her holographic display and listening through an earpiece. “Some of the anchors and analysts monitoring the conference remotely have expressed frustration with the proceedings,” she reported. “They are noticing what is <em>not</em> being said and the absence of certain individuals.”</p><p>The attention of the group in Wakanda focused again on the news conference when a man in the front row stood and called out, “Look, Rhodey, this is ridiculous. You’ve got to address the elephant in the room, man.”</p><p>Natasha said, “That’s Bob Pettigrew, with <em>National Security Today</em>. Doesn’t suffer fools gladly, and he’s important enough to get away with acting out.”</p><p>Onscreen, Bruce and Rhodey looked alarmed. “Now Bob, calm down,” Rhodey said with a strained smile. “We’re not done yet, just hang on—”</p><p>“I can see where this is going—I won’t wait until you trot out the last dog and pony and then disappear without taking questions,” Pettigrew said, waving the briefing document. “There’s someone we expected to hear from today who isn’t even on this list. Where the hell is Steve Rogers?” </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0022"><h2>22. Oh Boy</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>The Avengers news conference devolves into near chaos, Sam makes an inauspicious debut, and the folks in Wakanda just have to shake their heads. Worldwide reaction to the news of Steve’s retirement and Sam’s new job is mostly negative. T’Challa counsels Steve about how to move forward.</p><p>We hear from T’Challa, Shuri, Natasha, Steve, Okoye, OC Tumeli, Rhodey, Bruce Banner, and Sam Wilson</p><p>Rating: Teen and Up<br/>Content Note: none</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I wanted to reiterate that this is the point where this fic goes even further off the rails regarding post-Endgame canon. I'm straight up ignoring anything that's been established or will be established by new content in Falcon and Winter Soldier, Black Panther II, Black Widow, etc. So from here on out it's more of an AU than it even was before. Thanks for reading!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <i>New York City</i>
</p><p>Rhodey and Bruce were rapidly losing control of their news conference. Sentiment was clearly with Pettigrew’s frustrated outburst. Amid scattered applause and a flurry of yeahs, journalists called out questions, talking over one another.</p><p>“Is he back there?” “When was Rogers last seen?” “You can’t claim he’s sick—is he injured?” “Did you lose Captain America in the quantum realm?” “Has he been killed?”</p><p>A question not asked was, “Did he quit?”</p><p>Rhodey held up his hands in a plea to calm down. Bruce, when he could make himself heard again, assured the audience, “We’ll get you the answers you need. We were working up to it.” He nodded to Rhodey to proceed.</p><p>“Capt. Rogers is, as far as we know, just fine,” Rhodey said. His face was stern as he continued, “Here’s the announcement we were planning to make: He has chosen to retire to private life and will not be involved with The Avengers Organization.”</p><p>There was a collective gasp and the room erupted in shouted questions and comments, along with side chatter. “Why?” “Is there a statement in his own words?” “Was Rogers forced out?” “Not even in an advisory role like Hawkeye?” “Something must have happened to him.” “Who’s going to lead the Avengers?” “Cap wouldn’t do that!”</p><p>Bruce and Rhodey looked at each other in dismay. This was not how they had planned the event. Bruce leaned down to consult briefly with his co-director.</p><p>He raised a colossal green hand and the crowd quieted. “I understand that you’re confused by this development. I’ll disclose what I can so your readers and viewers can understand. Capt. Rogers was tasked with the return of the Infinity Stones. He did not return in the time tunnel, as expected. He chose to travel to an undisclosed date in the past. This branched off a new timeline for him, and he remained there for several decades.” Bruce’s statement set off a frenzy of typing and texting, along with expressions of shock.</p><p>“He came back to this timeline on his own, outside the time machine, shortly after his departure. During that brief visit, he confirmed that the stones had been replaced. He then returned to his new timeline. His personal appearance, and comments he made, show that he is elderly. We estimate he is now more than a hundred years old.” More gasps greeted this news.</p><p>“Steve Rogers is still alive, we assume, but he doesn’t live here any more. He’s left us,” Bruce said with a trace of bitterness. “Even if he came back to this timeline, he’s too old to serve as an Avenger. That’s the story.”</p><p>The room erupted again. “Can we contact him?” “What were his exact words?” “Who sent him on the mission by himself?” “Are you sure he was in his right mind?” “How can you be certain he returned all the stones?” “Where’s Thor’s hammer?” “Did he say why he abandoned us?”</p><p>Bruce, rattled by the verbal onslaught, abandoned the stage to Rhodey, retreating behind the backdrop. His partner spoke loudly into the microphone, promising, “We’ve got another announcement to make, it should answer a lot of your questions. Please come to order.” Finally the crowd settled down.</p><p>Rhodey had figured this was going to be the most difficult part of the news conference, and now everyone was already agitated. Oh well, the only way out was through.</p><p>He took a deep breath. “As his last act in our timeline, Capt. Rogers passed on the shield and the role of Captain America to one of the Avengers.”</p><p>Exclamations such as “What?” and “You’ve got to be kidding!” emerged from the audience. Then everyone in the room seemed to be holding their breath waiting for Rhodey’s next words.</p><p>“That individual is former US Air Force Sgt. Samuel T. Wilson, also known as Falcon.”</p><p>Sam emerged from behind the backdrop wearing a wingless blue tactical suit and carrying the iconic shield. The astonished audience remained quiet except for a few murmurs and the sound of shutters and keystrokes. He stepped up to the lectern. Sam was used to public speaking from his time at the VA, but this was way beyond a therapy session. He began his speech, sounding tentative.</p><p>“Hi, I’m Sam Wilson and I’m—” He was interrupted by shouts of “We can’t hear you” and “Speak up!”</p><p>“Um, sorry,” he said, leaning closer to the microphone. “I just wanted to say how honored I am to have been asked by my good friend Steve Rogers to take up the shield of Captain America and become leader of this extraordinary team. Like you, I wish he were still around, but he was entitled to make that choice and we need to respect it.” Sam took a deep breath to manage his nerves and emotion. “I told him I would do my best, and I make that pledge to my fellow Avengers, the American people, and the people of Earth.”</p><p>Overwhelmed by the historic moment, Sam looked out at the crowd and cameras for several seconds, which was a mistake. Reporters thought he was finished and began to shout at him: “What’s your leadership experience?” “What else did Cap say to you?” “Where’d you get that intact shield?” “How can a non-enhanced person handle this job?” “Do you have a deputy?” “You expect people to believe <i>you</i> are Captain America?”</p><p>Sam looked like a deer in the headlights. Rhodey saw there was no point in going on without answering the fired-up gaggle. But responding to a string of adversarial questions was definitely not part of the agenda. He decided to cut their losses.</p><p>Stepping forward and leaning over to the mike, he announced, “That’s all for today, we’ll be issuing statements over the next few weeks. Thank you for coming.” He tugged Sam’s arm and they hustled behind the backdrop, to a chorus of “Hey, wait!” and “Aren’t you taking questions?”</p><p>A couple of younger reporters headed toward where the Avengers had fled, intending to chase them down. Pettigrew called out, “I wouldn’t confront them if I were you, fellas.” The two men turned and looked at him.</p><p>“Hulk may be a professor now, but he can still squash you like a bug. These are tough guys. If they don’t want to say any more they won’t be pressured into it by a couple of reporters.”</p><p>* * *</p><p>
  <i>Wakanda</i>
</p><p>“Well, that was a shitshow,” Natasha announced.</p><p>T’Challa nodded agreement, as did Tumeli. She hadn’t heard that particular idiom before but had no trouble understanding it. Shuri and Okoye shook their heads in amused disbelief about what they’d just seen.</p><p>Steve didn’t smile. His jaw was set and he stared down at his arms resting on the table. He’d abandoned his popcorn. Nat reached over and patted his hand.</p><p>“Shall we discuss our impressions?” T’Challa suggested. “The report from the War Dogs will be forthcoming soon.” </p><p>The viewscreen still showed attendees milling around in the aftermath of the conference. Tumeli turned the sound off as an anchor was saying, “Two bombshell revelations from the Aveng—”</p><p>“I am at a loss to understand why this was so poorly handled. Was the Avengers’ public relations staff wiped out in the attack on its headquarters?” Shuri asked.</p><p>“There wasn’t one,” Natasha informed her. “We didn’t migrate the PR people from SHIELD because they were all either HYDRA or compromised by association. Instead, Tony put a boutique firm on retainer, and the Avengers rolled with that over the years. It’s clear these guys blew them off, maybe it was a money issue.”</p><p>“My informant told me the plan was to announce Steve’s retirement, introduce Sam Wilson, and have him introduce Sgt. Barnes as his assistant. Obviously they cut the presentation short because it had gotten out of hand,” T’Challa said.</p><p>“Had the informant seen the content of the announcements?” Tumeli asked.</p><p>“No, that was not known to this person.”</p><p>Steve roused himself to contribute to the conversation. “Your highness, can we reveal the identity of the informant? It would make discussion easier,” he said. The king nodded assent.</p><p>“It’s Bucky. I find it inexplicable they didn’t bother to discuss with him what they were going to say about me. He knows the most of anyone there about why I left.”</p><p>“It’s clear the group is experiencing leadership issues,” T’Challa said. “Of the four people with substantial experience as leaders for the organization, one is dead, one is pretending to be dead, and two are sitting in this room, not that one,” he said, pointing at the screen. “Dr. Banner and Col. Rhodes are no doubt doing their best in a difficult situation, but they seem to be floundering. Sgt. Barnes questions decisions they have taken in other areas as well.”</p><p>“You know how people who are brilliant in one area sometimes think they’re the best at everything?” Steve asked. Everyone nodded in recognition. “That may be the case here. We all know about Banner’s mind but people forget that Rhodey has a graduate degree from MIT. The two ‘smartest guys in the room’ reinforce each other.”</p><p>Natasha agreed. “They looked up to Tony as a genius and were content to let him make decisions. They’d follow Steve or me as long as Tony didn’t object. Now they’re biting off more than they can chew.”</p><p>“Sgt. Wilson may have potential, but he is just beginning and has weak support as yet, within the organization and from the public,” said T’Challa.</p><p>“He will need to cultivate alliances before asserting himself,” Okoye said. “And he appears unsure in his new role.”</p><p>“They threw him to the wolves,” Steve said with a tinge of anger. “I guarantee you he wasn’t prepared for this.”</p><p>“Should have posted a video introduction with him on social media, maybe a recorded Q and A for the mainstream channels, with handpicked reporters ,” Natasha mused. “An open news conference was always going to be a free-for-all.”</p><p>“What can we do now to assist Sgt. Wilson and his team?” asked Shuri, ever the problem solver.</p><p>“Our statement of support, which those of us in this room have reviewed, will be edited to remove reference to Sgt. Barnes and transmitted to The Avengers Organization within the hour,” T’Challa said. “We will use it in response to any media queries. Other than that, we can give our opinions to TAO when asked. We must allow them to drive their own process. It is out of our hands.” The king looked at Steve pointedly.</p><p>Tumeli announced that she’d received the War Dogs’ preliminary report. “They are reviewing news analysis, official responses, comments sections, and social media. Capt. Rogers’s retirement and Sgt. Wilson’s appointment already have proved highly upsetting to both public figures and ordinary people. Adverse reactions are currently most intense in the United States, parts of Western Europe, and India. Interest is widespread.” She looked up from the display. “‘Captain America’ and related terms are trending on multiple platforms.”</p><p>“Examples?” queried Nat.</p><p>“Hashtags include WhereIsCaptainAmerica, FalconNotWorthy, IStan4CapRogers, DropThatShield, CaptainSteveForever, ComeBackCap, and Noooooooooo. With ten O’s.” </p><p>Steve closed his eyes, massaged his forehead, and said, “That’s enough. Please.”</p><p>“The public mood encompasses shock, confusion, and much sadness, with some anger and fear,” Tumeli read from the report.</p><p>“Fear?” Okoye asked.</p><p>“Represented by quotes such as, ‘I fear for a world without Captain America,’ from a French elected official. A popular musician wrote, ‘We’re so hosed. The Wilson bloke is a jumped-up sidekick. He’ll never be Rogers.’ An American youth leader tweeted, ‘Falcon is OK I guess but what if something really bad happens and Cap isn’t here to stand up for us?’”</p><p>“What about Wakanda?” Shuri asked curiously—and to change the subject, when she caught sight of Steve’s troubled expression.</p><p>“So far, online Wakandans are practically in mourning about his disappearance. However, they are much more supportive of Sgt. Wilson than the average for the rest of the world,” Tumeli reported.</p><p>Steve had pushed his chair back from the table and sat hunched over, as though protecting himself. “I can’t believe this,” he said quietly. “I didn’t think people would care, at least not this much. It’s gut-wrenching.”</p><p>“It was always going to be bad, Steve,” T’Challa said. “You were not planning to be here to witness it, however. Had you stayed in the past, you would never have known.”</p><p>Although his tone was kind, his words were blunt, and Steve winced inwardly. Natasha came to the rescue. “Sam and the Avengers will ride it out,” she assured him. “It just might take longer than you imagined.” She let her hand rest on his back to try to soothe him; he looked as though he were in physical pain.</p><p>“I wonder how they will make the announcement about Barnes,” Okoye said. “I envision backlash on that as well, given his past. But what I am incensed about today is that there was no, as in zero, mention of Natasha.”</p><p>“I’m not surprised. They clearly wanted a focused, if boring, event,” Natasha pointed out. “Tony’s death was mentioned because of the money issue. It will be interesting to see if they put out a statement about me once the organization is working normally again. Sharon would likely push it, if no one else.”</p><p>“Sam will, and several on the advisory council will back him up,” Steve predicted.</p><p>“Indeed,” Okoye said with determination.</p><p>The group discussed further the implications of what had transpired and what it revealed about TAO. When the conversation wound down, Tumeli promised to keep everyone updated on developments.</p><p>As the meeting broke up, T’Challa quietly asked Nat to allow him to speak with Steve privately for a few minutes. She was amused that he would seek her permission, and gave it. When Steve came over to her and the king, she told him she’d see him at her apartment for dinner as planned. She squeezed his arm, then drifted out the door with Tumeli.</p><p>“You seem particularly unhappy about all of this, my friend,” T’Challa said when they were alone. “I would like to understand why. You fear that Sam is set up for failure because of the resistance to him?”</p><p>“Not that so much. He’s facing a stronger headwind than I thought, I’ll grant you, but I believe things will improve quickly. He’ll win everybody over. I’m more concerned about the ‘floundering’ leadership you mentioned, what that means for the team.”</p><p>“The word ‘concerned’ does not seem adequate for how upset you are. What is the real source of your distress?” T’Challa’s eyes radiated compassion and understanding.</p><p>Steve wasn’t used to opening up to anyone besides Natasha, Bucky, and Sam—and really only to a limited extent with them. But he knew he should embrace the friendly overture.</p><p>“I feel irresponsible about leaving, now that I see the results. If I’d gone back after fulfilling my mission with the stones, none of this would be happening.”</p><p>“Why did you not negotiate an exit strategy with your colleagues, instead of leaving suddenly and in secret?”</p><p>“I was afraid they’d talk me out of it, or guilt me out of it. Also, I assumed that world governments were going to object to the time machine, for good reasons, and shut it down. If I didn’t go right away, I thought I might lose my chance. I was right about that.”</p><p>T’Challa regarded the American closely. “I believe something more is bothering you.”</p><p>Steve put his hands in his pockets and looked at the floor. “It’s not only about leaving the team in the lurch. Now I feel guilty, and selfish, about leaving—well, everybody,” he confessed. “I’ve always done my best to ignore online comments, but the outpouring seems . . . intense. And to hear a cynical reporter say something like, ‘Why did he abandon us?’ That hit hard.”</p><p>“You genuinely had no idea this would happen?”</p><p>“I did not. I know I’m a celebrity, and there are those who project their hopes or dreams or assumptions onto me. I’m used to it even if I don’t like it. I thought my notoriety had waned, though. I mean, I basically disappeared from the public eye for years, on more than one occasion. People are saying they feel deeply about this. You’d think they’d forget, or at least stop caring. Isn’t the modern attention span supposed to be short?”</p><p>T’Challa put a hand on Steve’s shoulder. “There is much I could say about this matter, but I will not keep you. You need an opportunity to further contemplate what has happened and how it may unfold. Let me suggest that you come to terms with several issues: Why did you choose to leave, to commit to a different kind of life? What are the consequences for yourself and for others? And how you will live with those?</p><p>Steve looked him in the eye. “What do I want? What price has to be paid? By whom? And is it worth it?”</p><p>T’Challa dropped his hand to his side and smiled. “That is a more succinct list. You will soon better comprehend your situation and choose what you want to do. After a conversation with your partner, of course.”</p><p>That got a half-smile out of Steve. “Is that how we’re known? Partners?”</p><p>“It is a neutral term. Descriptive enough until you specify otherwise. Would you prefer ‘companion’?”</p><p>“After she and I have this conversation, maybe I can let you know what to call us.”</p><p>“I certainly look forward to our next meeting, Mr. Holden,” T’Challa said with a twinkle in his eye. They shook hands and took their leave.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0023"><h2>23. Deserving Freedom</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Steve is shaken by the outcry over his disappearance from the world stage and by Sam’s rough reception as the new Cap. Natasha thinks he’s overreacting and tries to reel him in from his impulse to go back and fix things.</p><p>Rating: Teen and Up<br/>Content Note: Description of injury and PTSD, one F bomb</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>When Natasha opened her apartment door to Steve, she saw from his expression and posture that he was seriously troubled. His distress struck a chord in her heart, and she immediately knew the cause. Not bothering with a greeting, she said, “You’re thinking about going back, aren’t you?”</p><p>He stared at her, stricken. “Yes,” he admitted.</p><p>“No. We need to talk.”</p><p>She took his hand and led him to the cushioned bench in the living room area. He followed obediently and sat where she indicated, forlorn.</p><p>“Steve, please look at me.” He did, eyes cloudy with worry. “You’ve been very clear that you were done with being an Avenger. You said you were committed to building a new future for us. You were confident the rest of the team could handle whatever came down the pike. You told the king you didn’t want him to give you a shield, even just in case. Now you’re going back on your word? Because you feel guilty?”</p><p>“People are freaking out. Everywhere.” He looked almost shellshocked.</p><p>“Let them. They’ll get over it. Denial and anger are the first stages of grief, right? They’ll get to acceptance eventually.”</p><p>“I left the team with problems, too. Especially the situation with Sam and Buck. I thought it wouldn’t be such a huge deal.”</p><p>“They’re big boys and girls. They’ll figure it out.”</p><p>
  <span>“Sam told me when I showed up looking old that he didn’t want to live in a world without Captain America. I told him he was the next one. Maybe I actually <i>can’t</i> do that. You said you didn’t think so.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You saw the initial reaction. I’m rooting for him, though I think it’s fifty-fifty it will stick. That doesn’t mean you have to keep the role until you age out, or somebody finally manages to kill you.” Natasha spoke flippantly but her face was unamused.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe it does mean that. The Captain America thing is more important to more people than I realized. I remember the old days when they first came up with it and I was their dancing monkey. A tool to sell bonds and keep people behind the war effort. Propaganda posters, newsreels, comic books, the works. I didn’t find out about the trading cards until I came back. I heard there was even Cap bubble gum.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There’s still Cap bubble gum.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“See? Can you blame me for assuming everybody thinks the concept is shallow?” Steve asked. “After I came back, SHIELD gave me that gaudy uniform, talked me into those goofy PSAs. Adding to a bright, friendly image for them.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Doesn’t matter. People know what you’ve said and done, for real. They write thank-you letters, stop you on the street.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The backstory is interesting, like a freak show. Not something to care <i>this</i> much about.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re exaggerating, in the wrong direction,” she insisted. “People practically revere you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I now realize enough people have decided ‘Cap’ is serious that there’s an uproar about it. About me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Americans decided that back in 1944, Steve. You made it serious when you rescued Bucky and his unit. When your Commandos started taking out HYDRA bases. When you chased off Red Skull and put the plane down in the Arctic. It’s your own fault. You could have remained a sideshow but you insisted on making a difference. You don’t understand the depth of public sentiment about it because you were overseas and kinda busy. But remember the exhibition?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, I’m a museum artifact. Doesn’t explain this. All that happened a long time ago. Not in my memory, but for everyone else.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’ve ignored news and social media too thoroughly over the years,” Natasha told him. “It’s warped your understanding of what the public thinks of you. A freak didn’t come out of the ice, a hero did. You retrained and pitched in. People remember the Battle of New York. After that, they followed the news about all the nasty organizations we busted. They remember you led the teams that saved millions from HYDRA infiltrators, and Ultron.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good for us. Then our team fought each other, some of us got declared terrorists, we lost the most important war and half the population died. And I basically dropped out for five years. Some hero,” he said derisively.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They know you were upholding what you believed, and a large proportion agreed with you. Then you stood up for them against the biggest menace to ever menace, even if our fight was doomed to fail. During the dark times people knew you were doing what you could, offering comfort and counsel. It was OK, there wasn’t any reason to kick ass. And when the opportunity came to reverse the Snap, you led the pursuit of it, at personal risk.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You did more than I. So did others.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’re talking perception, not necessarily reality. I’m not the one they’re concerned about today. It can be convenient to be dead, thank you very much. Your profile is high. The photos and stories from the Battle of Earth are getting a lot of attention.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I haven’t looked. It was an awful day. Don’t need any reminders.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You saw the pictures Tumeli sent us the link to, though.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, I didn’t click through.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No wonder you don’t get it.” Natasha took her new superphone out of a side pocket in her dress. A few gestures later, a hologram popped up with a foot-wide viewscreen. It showed a photo taken from about thirty feet in the air of Steve, by himself, with Thanos and his hordes visible in the background. “This is one of the most shared.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Who took this? It must have been right after the portals started to open but before everyone got over to where I was. Has to be from the surveillance camera on Sam’s suit. Dammit, Wilson.” He peered at it. “I look like hell.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, you do. Exactly like someone fighting heroically against overwhelming odds would look, shattered shield and all.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s misleading. By the time this was taken there were thousands arriving to help.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Here’s another with beaucoup views.” She switched to a different aerial shot: a line of Avengers and allies running, away from the camera and toward the fearsome enemy. Steve was in the center wielding Mjolnir as lightning blasted from it. “That <i>is</i> mighty cool looking,” Nat commented.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And several minutes later Thanos knocked me cold. Again. I played a role that day but I wasn’t exactly MVP.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Doesn’t matter. These photos are in the popular imagination now. Viewers know the guy in that suit is you, not Sam. The images and stories build on your reputation. People are still reeling from what’s happened over the past few years. Still scared, and scarred. They cling to you, the first Avenger. The leader they know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“All right, let’s say it’s true. I’m Captain Fucking America and people look to me as a symbol of—various good things. They’re hurting right now. So I must be wrong to quit.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s not what I’m saying and you know it. I want you to understand <i>why</i> people are up in arms. Don’t let it get to you, because they’re being selfish: They want you around to protect them. They’re not intending to give you a medal for a job well done and wave farewell.”</span>
</p><p>“You heard how hurt Bruce sounded at the press conference when he said I’d left. Maybe <i>I’m</i> being too selfish. The king wanted to know today what the hell I was thinking, disappearing without negotiating a transition.” He shook his head. “What was it Sam said about disagreeing with me?”</p><p>“If you find yourself on the opposite side from Cap, that’s a sign you need to reevaluate your position.”</p><p>“Well, in my book, if T’Challa thinks I’ve done something dumb, that’s a sign <i>I </i>need to reevaluate my position.”</p><p>“I’m positive he doesn’t think you’re stupid,” Natasha assured him.</p><p>“Maybe crazy. I admitted that I wasn’t in my right mind after you . . . after I lost you. I’ve made some questionable decisions.”</p><p>“Like almost burning your hand off communing with a magic stone? I’m damn lucky you were insane enough to do it. We’re operating in a very weird world, Rogers.”</p><p>“Getting you back made perfect sense. It’s the other stuff.” He leaned back, looking exhausted. “T’Challa encouraged me to get clear on why I left and what I want to do now.”</p><p>“He’s not saying you should reverse yourself,” she pointed out.</p><p>“He suggested I talk to ‘my partner’ about it. Looks like we have a rep already,” Steve said with a faint smile. “<span>No doubt he was told about the semi-public handholding.”</span></p><p>“The vibe we put off has changed since our big confession session.”</p><p>
  <span>“We talked about how we feel and what we hope to have together. We haven’t discussed as much who we’ve left behind.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’ll get around to it. It’s only been three days. Give us a break.”</span>
</p><p><span>“Those questions are now front and center. I need to understand what </span>we want, what that might cost, who pays the price. And decide whether can I live with it,” Steve said. His shock had given way to agitation.</p><p>
  <span>“Let’s look at our options,” Nat said pragmatically. “I see five.” She counted on her fingers. “One, we both stay out, and incognito. Two, we stay out but admit we’re in this timeline. Three, we both go back. Four, you go back and I stay out. Five, I go back and you stay out. I’ll tell you right now three and five are not on the table. I’m not going back.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Staying out but admitting we’re here is problematic. We discussed it before. Sam and Bucky would be after me to rejoin, and others would too, if today is any indication. The fact that they’d be angry at me might tamp down the demand, or they’d use my deceit to try to guilt me into it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Guilt has a huge influence on you. You should work on that,” she said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You first.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She rolled her eyes. “I’ll get right on it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There might be pressure on you to return as well, if this thirst for proven heroes lasts. As for number four, I really don’t want to go back alone,” Steve said. “I want to be near you, and I don’t want to have to pretend you’re dead.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I agree. If we’re going to try a life together, it should be <i>together</i>, not some split-time hybrid.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That leaves us at status quo.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s the right play. I’m more convinced than ever we should stay off the radar.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But why is it the right choice? Can we articulate reasons better than ‘I’m not feeling the whole Avengers thing anymore’?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sure. I could do this all day,” Natasha said with a wry smile, settling further into the cushions. “Number one for me is that I need healing. Not from physical injuries—that seems taken care of—but mental ones. You told me you wanted to see who I might become after retiring from the mayhem. I do too. With a quiet life I’ll have the time and space to unlearn old programming and bad habits that hold me back. I need peace so I can banish my demons, not feed them. So do you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You have a depth of trauma I can hardly fathom. My issues aren’t nothing, but—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Steve, I’ve stood watch while you slept,” Natasha reminded him. “I’ve seen you have nightmares. And dissociate, overreact, get overwhelmed with anxiety. You’re actually a kind and gentle person who shouldn’t witness suffering and killing all the time. Or have to be the cause. It’s not good for you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He looked down at his hands in his lap. “I want to say it’s not that bad. But you’re right. We both meet criteria for PTSD.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“All the criteria, in fact,” she affirmed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What does it take to make progress with PTSD?” Steve said. “There has to be freedom from violence. That’s something our jobs required, so we’d need different jobs. Ones that don’t rely on punching. Or whacking with a shield or shooting or electrocuting or whatever it takes. I don’t want to sign up for another hitch to battle the usual suspects—the terrorists and traffickers. Thanos and his armies are gone. I want our war to be over,” he said. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It is,” she insisted. “I’m effectively turning down another tour of duty too. That’s scary because making that choice is new. I’ve been locked into what the past says I should be. I got very good very fast because I was forced to. I took a step toward freedom when I went over to SHIELD, but I was still in the same kind of job. I stayed with it because hey, what else is Black Widow going to do? I believed it was all of who I am.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I did make choices: I joined the Army, volunteered for the Rebirth project, went AWOL and got myself into the actual war,” Steve said. “Since I woke up in the 21st century, I haven’t believed I could choose to quit. I was rebuilt, at great cost, to be good at fighting. Everyone expects me to do it. Even after I got kicked out of the group, we kept going on our own, and then dived back in officially when the crisis hit. I signed on during wartime, but what I got myself into was bigger than the Nazis and harder to end.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Natasha was thoughtful. “Remember the conversation we had at HQ right before Scott showed up? A reason I was afraid to ever quit was because that position, and the family it brought me, made me a better person. Without it I worried I’d revert to my old ways, or at least stop improving.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s all changed now, Nat,” he said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes. I showed, to myself and everyone else, that I have what it takes to put others first. To make the sacrifice play. I believe I can continue to be a good person without being an Avenger. I spent years trying to erase the red in my ledger. Now I’m done. I’m ready to have a life, and I’ve earned it. You didn’t have any red, so you deserve it even more.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Deserving a life outside the service, time to heal, freedom from violence, freedom of choice. Four reasons,” Steve summed up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve got a fifth,” Natasha added. “Through the experience of dying and coming back, I’ve become certain about what’s most important. Part of my new life will be more friends, and closer friends. Not holding people at arm’s length because I fear I’m a monster, or because what I do for a living is horrifying.” She took Steve’s hand. “Most of all, I want to spend my time with someone I love. That’s hard with a job like mine. Like ours.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“When your love is alongside you doing dangerous work, it compounds the threat,” he said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She nodded. “You and I had the right idea from that perspective. We turned away from a romantic relationship, trying to save each other from that level of heartache. Now, I need to elevate love. I claim the right not to risk the second chance I’ve been given. No more combat or espionage, if I can help it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Make love, not war, as the saying goes. The original reason I decided to leave,” Steve said.</span>
</p><p>“We have five excellent reasons not to go back, and right now we have a golden opportunity to lie low,” Natasha said with conviction. “I want this fresh start very much.”</p><p>“We still need to look at the cost to others,” he said somberly.</p><p>
  <span>She sighed in frustration. “Steve, we don’t owe—” She was interrupted by a tentative knock on the door.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s only seven, dinner usually shows up at half past,” she said, puzzled.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Natasha answered the door and found a stout, middle-aged woman with a short natural haircut holding two tablet computers. The woman was wide-eyed, either with fright or excitement. “Good evening, Ms. Sheen. Very sorry to bother you, but I’m looking for Mr. Holden and was advised he might be here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve appeared behind Natasha. “That’s me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The woman glanced from one face to the other and grinned widely. “Oh my. This is such a great day for me. My name is N’Talia and I’m a linguist on the palace staff.” She spoke English with practiced ease and a faint British accent. “I’ll be your tutor, Mr. Holden. I was asked to bring you the basic teaching materials this evening and schedule our lessons for the next several weeks. Or months, if you would like.” She proffered the top tablet and he took it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Um, sure,” he said, surprised. “I’ll be happy to get started. Should we meet a couple of times a week?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The more we work the faster your progress. Whatever you are willing to commit to is fine. I am assigned to be at your service up to six hours a day six days a week, starting tomorrow.” She flipped open the cover of her tablet and brought up a calendar app.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wow, that’s . . . immersive. And very generous with your time. I’m not sure what else I’ll have going on. How about three hours a day the first four days of the work week.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Excellent. We can always change if need be—I am flexible. Shall we calendar for the next three months?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Let’s plan 9 a.m. for the next couple of weeks, then see if I’ll still be . . . We can revisit the schedule then.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“As you wish, Mr. Holden.” N’Talia again looked from Steve to Natasha and smiled brightly. “May I take a moment to say, it is a great honor to meet you both. I hope your stay in Wakanda is long and fruitful. I’m thrilled to be able to be of material assistance. The tablet hasinformation on how to contact me. Please don’t hesitate to do so if I can be of help in any way. Either of you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We appreciate that, N’Talia,” Steve said with a smile, stepping back from the door and activating the tablet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In the local language, Natasha asked, “I’m curious. Is that the name your parents gave you? It doesn’t sound Wakandan.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re right, it’s not. A nickname others gave me that I’ve used for years,” she said shyly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah. No doubt I’ll see you soon since you’ll be spending time with my buddy here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, that seems likely. A bonus of this assignment. Have a pleasant evening, Ms. Sheen.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You too, N’Talia. Nice tattoo, by the way,” Natasha said as she began to shut the door. N’Talia was startled and reflexively glanced at the inside of her left wrist, which bore a small stylized hourglass. She met Nat’s eye and gave a sly smile as she turned away into the hall.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Looks like you have a fan base here,” Steve said as they sat down again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You understood what we were saying?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, I noticed her tattoo. And I assume her name is another tribute. At this rate I’m going to feel left out if we don’t meet any Steves.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She laughed. “Well, that was an interesting little incident.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yep. You think her visit was a message?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Definitely. From someone who doesn’t want to tell you what to do, but wants to influence you to stay put.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m beginning to feel there’s a conspiracy to ensure that I do.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good,” Natasha said firmly.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0024"><h2>24. What's Next</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Natasha and Steve resolve their argument about resurfacing into the world and discuss those they’ve left behind. They seal the decision with a kiss.</p><p>Rating: Teen and Up<br/>Content Note: Sexual themes, one F bomb</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“Are you going to come to your senses and give in to the conspiracy, or do we have to argue about this some more?” Natasha asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve tapped away on the tablet N’Talia had given him, logging appointments for the two weeks of lessons he’d agreed to. He could have switched to holographic mode, but that still seemed too weird. He thought he was doing well to have become comfortable with computers and touchscreens, given the level of technology he’d grown up with.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just because there’s a ‘conspiracy’ to persuade me to stay underground doesn’t mean it’s the right thing to do. It might mean exactly the opposite,” he said without looking up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nat sighed again. The man would insist on doing things the hard way. “Consider that the king is all for your staying, though. You respect his judgment.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s willing to indulge us for now,” Steve said. “He said we need a vacation. In a few months we may get subtle messages to return to the US and get to work.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t believe that. It’s clear to me that our friends aren’t keeping us under wraps just because you asked them to. I’m convinced they’re genuinely willing for us to live here, on the down low or otherwise, as long as we want to stay.”</span>
</p><p><span>“Whatever the Wakandans’ position, seems like a lot of other people have a different opinion,” Steve said, setting the shiny device aside. “Even if I’m ready to move on, to let go, they don’t think I should. Obviously they appreciate what we’ve done over the years. What were those tags? ComeBackCap, and </span>No with ten O’s. Ouch.<span>”</span></p><p>
  <span>“Appreciative or no, what they’re doing is throwing a fit. You don’t have any obligation to listen, never mind do what they demand,” Natasha countered. “You’re not a parent who’s abandoning his kids, or a guard deserting his post. You’re a soldier and a leader who’s been fighting on their behalf for years. The biggest enemy is gone and you want to go home.”</span>
</p><p>Steve looked thoughtful. “People said behind my back—hell, sometimes to my face—that I would never quit the business. That fighting was what gave my life meaning, that I needed war. I hated hearing that, being reduced to one dimension. But I suspected it was true. What’s my value? How well I eliminate threats.”</p><p>“No,” she insisted. <span>“We’re more than soldiers and spies. We have hopes and dreams like anyone—we’ve been talking about them since you returned. Don’t let the fearful drag you back in. You’ve given your life to this work. You’ve fought hard, endured pain and misery, accomplished the impossible—or at least the very, very unlikely. You shouldn’t have to keep doing it indefinitely.”</span></p><p>
  <span>“You’ve done as much as I have. A member in good standing of the Four-S.” He sloppily saluted her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And they’d demand that I come back too, if I revealed I was alive. We do not owe those people anything,” Natasha insisted. “We gave at the office, did the self-sacrifice, put ourselves on the line time and again. How many more times do they expect us to save the world? The Wakandans respect us and they respect our choice to lay down arms. I’m not sure who else understands.”</span>
</p><p><span>“Being a protector, a defender—it’s a noble endeavor. I’m capable of continuing.” </span>Steve leaned forward with his elbows on his knees and put his head in his hands. <span>“Can I really turn my back on everybody? Is that who I am?”</span></p><p><span>“It’s not necessary to be a selfless martyr to be a good person, Steve. Having your own desires and acting on them is entirely legit. Sam said publicly that you’re </span>entitled to retire; he encouraged everyone to respect it. He’ll reiterate that. Eventually, if you don’t feed the beast by reappearing, t<span>hey’ll get over it.”</span></p><p>“I don’t know,” he muttered.</p><p>Natasha had an ace in the hole, but she didn’t want to play it. She hoped Steve would decide to stay out because he realized it was the right choice. He’d made it before, but guilt triggered by other people’s needs led him to second-guess himself. His own well-being usually took a back seat to the mission; could she get him to break that habit permanently?</p><p>
  <span>Steve took a deep breath, sat up and looked at her directly. “There’s a tactic you haven’t tried,” he said. “You could make this an ultimatum.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nat was surprised. Had she somehow telegraphed what she was thinking, or had they reached a point where this option was the only one left to discuss?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve made my position clear, but I want you to choose for your own sake,” she said carefully. “I won’t threaten you with 'It’s them or me.’ If you can’t live with yourself if you don’t return, I’ll still do whatever it takes to have a relationship with you. But I’m not going to pretend that I agree, and I won’t go back to the team.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The tension that had been increasing within him subsided, and he gave her a grateful smile. “You’re a good and honest person, Natasha. You could manipulate me easily, but you have too much integrity.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Noble words. I’m not used to hearing them applied to me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve been falling down on the job, obviously. Mostly because you’d get cross with me when I’d say things like that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe I can be less down on myself now. Coming back from the dead seems like the best possible time to recognize my own value. To turn over a new leaf, or several.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her words resonated in his mind. It was definitely time for something new. He studied her face. The guarded, almost haunted expression he knew too well had all but vanished since her return. She showed an openness that made his heart sing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Something shifted within. A return of the conviction, the rightness he’d felt when they had declared they would do anything for each other. His decision became clear: He would not leave her again, not if the whole world demanded it. She was right that he owed nothing and there were many good reasons to close the door on his former life. But on top of that, Natasha deserved to get what she wanted for once. And, as of now, that was him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“All right, Romanov. You win.” He opened his arms. “I’ll stay put. With you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nat, delighted, scooted over for a hug. “Smart move,” she said against his chest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I sure hope so,” he responded.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She leaned back and looked up at him. “You’ve succumbed to the conspiracy to get you a life.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah. Keep in mind I’ll probably have some rough times dealing with the backlash.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I thought of something you could do to make you feel better.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Love to hear it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Explain to the team the reasons you left.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was baffled. “How can I, after the fact? I do regret that they seem confused about why. I figured people would take it at face value: The weary soldier wanted to be happy with his girl. Not too complicated, but they expected more. Though Bucky didn’t push me on anything when we talked. He just accepted that I wanted to go back to Peggy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Deep down you knew he wouldn’t challenge you. That’s why he was the only one you confided in,” Natasha guessed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe you’re right. He said he was OK with my leaving, changing where our end of the line was. He deserves a fuller explanation. I should have talked to all of them, and left something they could put out to the public.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If you write up what you want to say, Okoye or Tumeli can have it transmitted to whoever needs to see it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That would reveal I’m around.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nah. Leave it to the intelligence operatives. Properly dated paper copies can suddenly be found. Electronic documents can appear in inboxes with faked headers; they’ll look like they were scheduled before you left, to be sent later.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You really think I should?” he asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Honestly, I’m not sure,” she said, curling up next to him. “It’s something to think about, hard, before you do it. How much do you reveal about your thoughts, about what you did? It’d make you feel better, but would it help them or just prolong getting over your absence?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve had appeared content with his decision, but now he seemed troubled again. “Talking about sending messages to the team makes me wish I could keep in contact. I’ll miss everybody. And Bucky and Sam . . . I know going dark is for the best, but my biggest regret is leaving them.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah. I think about Wanda too. That young woman needs all the understanding friends she can get.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve waited expectantly for the next name he knew she had on her mind.</span>
</p><p>Natasha bowed her head. “And then there’s Clint.”</p><p>“What do you want to do?”</p><p>“I’ve thought about him every day since I got back, but I’ve put off dealing with it. I figure he’s been through the worst phase of grief and guilt. He has family to comfort him, and they’re building a post-Avengers life for themselves, whatever that looks like. I have higher priorities than somehow making him feel better.”</p><p>“Which are?”</p><p>“Staying healthy. Keeping us free and safe. And especially figuring out how me and you are going to be. To be blunt about it: Clint insisted I couldn’t be brought back. You went and got me. I’m definitely Team Steve. You come first.”</p><p>Steve winced. “That’s a little harsh. He tried his best to spare you but you beat him to the punch, you might say.”</p><p>“Yes, and he had to focus on getting the stone to Earth so it could be used. But later, after the fact . . . Anyhow, there are issues to be faced before I do anything. Should I contact him at all? If so, how can I do it with extreme security, and what should I say? I can’t just pop off an email or a text: ‘Hey, what’s up, guess who’s not dead anymore!’ He’d swear to keep his mouth shut if I asked him to, but . . .”</p><p>“Right, what if he did let slip that you’re alive? And should you include Laura, and the kids?”</p><p>“The more people who know the more likely it is to leak. Can I see him, or them? Reveal where I am? I can’t let him figure out you’re here too. He might not keep that to himself even if I asked. He might feel an obligation as an Avengers advisor.”</p><p>Natasha broke off and looked narrowly at Steve, who was now staring off into space. “Uh-oh. You’re thinking again. Dangerous.”</p><p>
  <span>“Rhodey said in the announcement that Clint’s an advisor who wouldn’t ever go on active duty. It makes me think about the composition of the team. What if . . .” He trailed off, not wanting to invoke disaster.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What if something really bad happens?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah. If there’s an incident—an all hands on deck, five-alarm, oh my god emergency—should we resurface? Or trust them to deal with it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It would have to be catastrophic to get me out there.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If T’Challa asked, I would,” Steve said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course. If it’s in defense of Wakanda, I’m in. They say they owe us but I think we owe them,” Natasha declared.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What about elsewhere?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Decision on a case-by-case basis. I’d only do it if we both agreed.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He nodded. “I’d work in the background and maintain disguise if I possibly could,” he said. “Helping out in a crisis doesn’t bother me. It’s the inability to put the genie back in the bottle if we’re identified.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’ll burn that bridge when we come to it,” Nat said. “Most likely, it will never happen. Let’s concentrate on dealing with certainties. And making good changes for ourselves, building the life we want.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right. Getting what we want.” Steve smoothly put his arm around her shoulders, and she snuggled closer, smiling up at him. He looked at her intently. Not only was he in love with this amazing human being, but she was almost impossibly beautiful. He felt profound relief that he had committed to staying here with her, and enormous gratitude at how much she wanted him to.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Natasha felt a thrill echo through her as she watched him study her face, his gaze lingering on her lips before rising to her eyes. How could blue look so warm? She steeled herself against her physical response to him; she was still certain she didn’t want to go there just yet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Again he seemed to know what she was thinking. “You said Friday you’re concerned about getting swept away if we kissed. You want to wait. But right now, we’ve got a built-in limit,” Steve said, his voice low.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His tone made the mundane words sound sexy. “What do you mean?” she asked faintly.</span>
</p><p><span>“They’ll deliver our food soon. We have maybe five minutes before someone knocks on that door again. What do you say to a preview of coming attractions?” </span>Maintaining eye contact, he leaned closer and rested his free hand on her knee.</p><p>Natasha felt warmth coming in waves from him. Or maybe it was her own heat she felt as she luxuriated in his familiar scent and magnetic energy. The usual pull toward him grew stronger the closer they were. Should she go against the boundaries she’d set and kiss him?</p><p>Steve allowed himself to close the last few inches between them. Her mouth had opened slightly as her breath came faster, and he brought his lips softly against hers, matching their shape. Encouraged by the faint “ah” she exhaled as they touched, his lips caressed hers for a few aching seconds before he drew his mouth gently along her jawline. He stopped to suck softly at a spot of creamy smooth skin below her ear that he had wanted to kiss for ten years.</p><p>Natasha was so astonished he had taken the initiative that she stopped breathing for a few moments. The electric feeling of his mouth on her neck roused her to action, and she reached over to thread her fingers through his thick hair. “Steve,” she whispered. “Please, not too . . .”</p><p>“I’ll stop before it hurts,” he promised. He kissed his way down to the hollow of her throat, keeping his word. Wrapping his other arm around her back, he gathered her tightly to him and let her guide his mouth toward hers. He kissed her hard and deep, which she savored before responding with matching passion. For a few minutes they lost themselves in exploring each other’s kisses, strength vying with delicacy, novelty with straight lust.</p><p>One of her hands remained entwined in his hair, pulling it slightly. She moved her other to caress the nape of his neck. His body shuddered and a deep moan escaped him, his lips still pressed to hers. It thrilled Natasha to her core and she felt as though she were melting, a desire-driven loss of control she had never experienced. Steve held her body firmly so she wouldn’t collapse. One hand wandered further down, and he raked his fingers across the small of her back. Galvanized by the touch, she arched backward, breaking their kiss. They both gasped, out of breath.</p><p>He leaned in again to suckle her earlobe, just barely setting his teeth against her skin. “You were right,” he murmured into her ear. “So easy to get carried away by you.”</p><p>“Yes,” she breathed. She regained enough control to take hold of his thinly clad shoulders, reveling in how the powerful muscles felt beneath her hands. He was right as well, about the time limit; if someone weren’t coming along shortly she would be tearing his clothes off, her boundaries be damned.</p><p>Steve watched as Natasha all but purred with pleasure before opening her eyes. <span>She cleared her throat to help clear her head, sat back and smoothed her mussed hair. “Wow. </span>That was much better than last time,” she said with a sly smile.</p><p>“We’re not in a public place, and there aren’t any dangerous agents after us,” Steve pointed out. “Also, you know, I <i>have</i> been practicing.”<span> Relieved that she was impressed, he was glad he had gained some experience rather than coming to her as the novice he’d been not long ago. He wanted desperately to continue, but dinner would arrive any moment.</span></p><p>
  <span>To distract himself, he reached over and picked up the tablet, shaking it awake.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Whatcha doing now?” Nat asked, leaning comfortably against his shoulder.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Extending my schedule for language lessons. How does three months sound?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Go for four. Wakandan syntax is difficult if you’ve studied only European languages. You’ll want time to master anything beyond the conversational basics.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Four it is.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As she watched his handsome face, intent on the glowing device, Natasha couldn’t stop herself from grinning like a fool. They were really going to stay here for the foreseeable future. Safe, at peace, together.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And that kiss had indeed been promising. No doubt her resolve to give Steve time to rebound from his relationship with Peggy was going to be sorely tested.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0025"><h2>25. Atop Another Cliff</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Okoye and a pilot take Natasha and Steve on a picnic to an idyllic wilderness waterfall, resulting in a poignant moment of truth.</p><p>Rating: Teen and Up<br/>Content Note: Sexual themes, descriptions of injury and heights</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Natasha watched through the glass walls as the private elevator whisked her and Steve down twelve floors. “It’s great to see something different, and be back in motion,” she said delightedly. “The palace is pleasant but I was feeling cooped up.”</p><p>Steve adjusted his nano mask where it was loose under his chin. “Glad you’re cleared for takeoff. It’ll be easier to go out when Shuri finishes programming our new disguisers,” he said. “These old masks I brought can be a pain to deal with. The latest Wakandan models have one-tap operation and miniaturize when retracted.”</p><p>“The War Dogs use state of the art. Highly classified.”</p><p>“Amazing they’re willing to let us borrow them.”</p><p>“They trust we won’t share with someone we shouldn’t.” Like Steve, Natasha wore a mask covering only her face rather than the more elaborate version that would have camouflaged her hair, hands, and voice as well. Though her auburn braid was distinctive, they could afford to be slightly lax on security given the day’s itinerary.</p><p>“Good job on programming these masks, primitive as they are,” Nat said. “Facial features are different enough so we’re not recognizable but still look natural on us. Are they based on anyone in particular?”</p><p>“No, I avoided resemblance to any actual people. Used the randomizer setting and tweaked the results.”</p><p>“It helps that you’re an artist.”</p><p>“You don’t mind that I made your face more ordinary?”</p><p>“Nondescript is good. Easier to go unnoticed. Although blending in here doesn’t work unless we use the full disguisers.”</p><p>The elevator glided to a stop and the bronze doors slid open. A recorded woman’s voice announced in Wakandan, “Ground floor, courtyard. May your journey be pleasant and safe.” The private lobby was small and deserted, and they stepped through a fortified door onto a path through the lush landscaping.</p><p>In a grassy space sat a dark gray hovercraft the size of a minivan. “It’s adorable,” Natasha gushed. “I’ve never seen a hover that small.” As they crossed to the craft, which was open to the sky and the brilliant mid-morning sun, the pilot stepped out.</p><p>“Greetings, Ms. Sheen, Mr. Holden,” the man said in English. His voice was deep, his head shaved, and he wore the black tactical uniform of King’s Guard commandos—the same suit the Design Group had adapted for Steve, Natasha, and Sam to use during their outlaw years.</p><p>“Good to see you again, Dambu,” Steve said with a smile while shaking his hand. Dambu looked to be in his mid-thirties, a few years older than when they had met. Apparently he had been among those who Remained. “Did you meet Nat—er, Kat before the Battle of Wakanda?”</p><p>“Only briefly,” Dambu said as he shook hands with her. “I am glad to welcome you back. In more ways than one.”</p><p>“I’m glad to be here, in more ways than one,” she replied, laughing.</p><p>Okoye walked up from behind the vehicle. “Today we shall teach you the salutation protocols, my friends,” she announced as she approached. “No more of this foreign handshaking with our soldiers.” Only someone who knew her well would have caught the smile in her eyes. She saluted and Dambu returned it. Custom dictated that the highest-ranking individual recognize others first.</p><p>“Okoye! You’re really going to join us?” Nat asked happily. The general wore a blue and yellow wrap dress with leggings underneath. It was the first time either of the Americans had seen her out of uniform.</p><p>“Yes indeed. I too deserve a picnic amongst the flowers and waterfalls. It has been a hard few years with little time to myself,” she said.</p><p>“Good for you, sister,” said Natasha.</p><p>They all stepped into the vehicle and Dambu powered it up. The craft rose about a meter into the air, much more quietly than the troop transports Steve and Natasha were familiar with. Okoye nodded, and the pilot manipulated yoke and throttle to glide across the courtyard, over the wall, and along the street about five meters above surface traffic.</p><p>As they cruised at low speed, Steve, up front next to the pilot, leaned against the side and took in the sights and sounds of the city. He tucked his hands into the front pockets of his blue jeans and immediately noticed the absence of the compass he had carried for almost fifteen years. After a split second of alarm, he remembered yet again that he had abandoned the memento in 1949 a little over a week ago. The day he stopped reflexively missing the compass would be a milestone in detaching from that old, faraway life.</p><p>Okoye and Natasha sat on the stern wall enjoying the breeze. In Wakandan, Okoye said, “M’Gaji is a cautious physician, so you must be doing very well.”</p><p>“She wouldn’t let me go on this trip if I weren’t thoroughly supervised,” Natasha said. “It’s fine, though. I like having more people to talk to. The past few days have been an adjustment since I’m no longer in the clinic daily for testing and Steve is gone all morning with N’Talia.”</p><p>“You don’t have to call her that, you know,” Okoye pointed out. “Her real name is Lufima.”</p><p>Nat smiled. “I don’t mind. It’s funny because I never go by my real name, and she’s adopted it. Steve says she’s a good teacher and keeps her idolatry in check. She’s just enthusiastically nice.” She laughed. “She somehow got hold of a photo of us from before the Battle of Wakanda—in a hovercraft, in fact. The angle is such that he and I look like we’re standing close when we were quite far apart. She’s had it for years as a cherished keepsake.”</p><p>Okoye shook her head. “I was dubious when I was told about N’Talia’s devotion to you, or to her concept of you. But she is the best qualified tutor for him so I did not object to the assignment.”</p><p>“N’Talia’s thrilled that he and I are here together now. She said she’s always been convinced we should be a couple. Not sure where she got that notion.”</p><p>“If she ever becomes too much, let Tumeli know and the situation will be remedied.”</p><p>“I’m sure we can handle my number one fan in Wakanda,” Natasha said with a chuckle.</p><p>Dambu called over his shoulder to warn that he was deploying the canopy. It rose from the craft’s walls, beginning in the bow, and soon covered the entire passenger space. Natasha and Steve were fascinated by the process and the incredibly thin shielding. Steve tapped curiously on it as it materialized in front of him as though forming itself out of the air. The substance, clear as crystal, was no doubt some super tough vibranium-derived nanotech creation.</p><p>Okoye observed the Americans wordlessly sharing with each other their wonder at the technology. She was not surprised that N’Talia had a steadfast belief in their fated match. Though the pair had always downplayed their closeness, it had been obvious to anyone of discernment. While Okoye worked with Natasha in the Avengers, Nat had let slip telling details of the relationship. Their communication style and complementary tactics had developed during their first missions after the Battle of New York. They spent much of their down time together, talking, sparring, training, watching video, or silently reading. When apart, each knew where the other was, at least in general but often to an uncanny specificity. Though she’d couched it in terms of friendship, Natasha had admitted that separation—like solo deployments and vacations, her disengagement after the fall of SHIELD, Steve’s sojourns in the city during the dark times—generated an underlying unease until they were in contact again.</p><p>The canopy had been triggered when the hovercraft gained speed as it left the Golden City. Now they bounded over the eastern hills, heading for the wilderness reserve halfway across the country but not long distant at 250 kilometers per hour. The terrain alternated between rolling tawny grasslands and green mountains that caught more rain. Dambu set the little craft on autopilot and joined the conversation as the four relaxed in the passenger seating. The time passed quickly with anecdotes, banter, and laughter. An observer might have found it remarkable that they did not tell a single war story.</p><p>Dambu took the controls as they crossed into the thickly forested wilderness area, slowing to lessen the impact on the delicate ecosystem. He was a scout and tracker, among other talents, and had made this wilderness a specialty of his, having grown up in a village close by.</p><p>He steered the hovercraft into a narrow valley and proceeded toward the headwaters of the river below. They snaked along, following the stream much as they had followed city streets. Several times it seemed that the canyon had narrowed so much it was about to end, but invariably a horseshoe bend or a veer into a side canyon kept the hover moving onward.</p><p>At a wide spot in a gorge, Dambu set down gently in a meadow, a patch of light and grass amongst the shadowed jungle and stunning rock formations. “We are near Adongo Falls,” the pilot said, again in English for Steve’s benefit. “The plan is an early lunch, then three hours for relaxation and sightseeing before it is time to return.”</p><p>“Lunch?” Steve said happily. “Sounds great. I’m hungry.”</p><p>Natasha shook her head. “You had sausages and a big bowl of porridge for breakfast.”</p><p>“Exactly,” he said. “I usually have a plate of puff puffs too.”</p><p>“We brought plenty of fruit and sandwiches,” the pilot said. “European-style bread with African fillings.”</p><p>The four set out the picnic and continued their conversation as they ate. The cries of birds, insect noises, and nearby rapids made the ambiance less than quiet, though still somehow tranquil and a change from the city.</p><p>Dambu pointed out the trail to the falls and explained the lay of the land. He said he would remain with the vehicle and demonstrated how their Wakandan phones, with satellite capability, could contact him in case of emergency.</p><p>“Don’t worry, Specialist Dambu,” Okoye said. “These are people that others call for help.”</p><p>“True, but Dr. M’Gaji and Leader Tumeli made me promise to protect their welfare, given Ms. Sheen’s recent experiences.”</p><p>“We appreciate your vigilance,” Steve said. “It’s unfamiliar territory for us. Good to be cautious.”</p><p>The three set off on the trail, dim but easy to follow along the river. There were a few rock scrambles that Natasha negotiated with ease. The reward for a few kilometers of hiking came when they rounded a bend, the forest opened up, and they saw—and heard—a fifty-meter double waterfall.</p><p>The trail led them closer, almost to the roiling pool at the bottom of the cascade. Okoye suggested that Steve and Nat take a further trail the scout had told them about. “I intend to sit here awhile,” she declared, raising her voice over the noise. “I find falling water soothing and meditative. The flowers have a beautiful scent, and there are plenty of birds to amuse me.”</p><p>The Americans agreed and found the trail that wound upward, fainter than the previous one. Steve followed Natasha in case she faltered, but she climbed with stamina and agility. At the top of the cliff, they found a game path headed toward the river.</p><p>They emerged from the forest onto the riverbank about forty meters upstream from the waterfalls. The river was clear, the bottom flat, and the current slower than they’d anticipated. Mist wafted up to this height, the roar of the cataract muffled to an ominous rumble. The narrow rocky island that split the falls ended across from where they stood.</p><p>“Breathtaking,” Steve said in awe.</p><p>“I love the sound from up here. Like thunder,” Natasha said.</p><p>“Too bad the vegetation on this bank is so thick close to the edge,” Steve said, looking in that direction. “Wouldn’t be able to see much, if we can even get near it.”</p><p>Nat fiddled with the temple of her disguiser. “Let’s take off the masks for awhile. After the climb my face is hot under this thing. It’s not like we’re going to run into anybody.”</p><p>They peeled them off and stowed them in their water bottle slings, which they hung in a tree. Natasha enjoyed the view of fabulously shaped rock spires across the valley, while Steve peered analytically at the river.</p><p>He said, “The water is less than waist-deep between here and the island. Want me to carry you across so we can peek over the cliff?”</p><p>“Are you nuts? You’d be swept off your feet and we’d get way more than a peek over the edge.”</p><p>“It isn’t that fast and the footing looks good. Tell you what, I’ll do a recon by myself, determine whether I can make it while carrying you. If the current is stronger than it appears I promise I’ll turn back.”</p><p>“You don’t mind getting your boots soaked?”</p><p>“It’ll be worth wet feet. We’ve come all this way. Don’t you want to see that view?”</p><p>“It’s tempting, I admit.”</p><p>Without further ado Steve plunged into the river. It came up a little higher than his knees, and he zigzagged along the twenty meters between the riverbank and the island, seeking the best footing. He made it without incident and turned back, wading astonishingly fast now that he had a path mapped out.</p><p>“See? No problem,” he declared as he approached.</p><p>Instead of crawling up the steep bank to get out of the river, he crouched down in the shallow edge of the water and jumped two meters almost straight up, sticking a perfect landing. It startled Natasha when he occasionally did things like that in regular clothes. Without a uniform or tac suit, Steve passed for a normal person and it was easy to forget what he was capable of. Though he was still abnormally good looking, in her estimation.</p><p>“Child’s play compared to a lot of stunts we’ve pulled,” he said.</p><p>“Yeah, but we took risks for important purposes, not to sightsee.”</p><p>“Where’s your sense of adventure?” Steve asked, teasing.</p><p>“Left it on Vormir,” Natasha said flatly.</p><p>He looked stricken. Maybe playing around cliffs with Nat wasn’t the best idea he’d ever had. “Oh, I didn’t think—I’m sorry—”</p><p>She smiled and patted his arm. “I’m just making a morbid joke, hon. Let’s go for it.”</p><p>“You sure? You have a point about the risk.”</p><p>“I haven’t done anything dangerous in weeks. I’m going into withdrawal. On your shoulders?”</p><p>“Too top-heavy. Can you hold onto my back, like that time in Australia?”</p><p>“Sure. If I recall correctly my ankle was twisted, you’d been shot in the arm, and you had to run and dodge bullets while I returned fire. This should be slightly easier.”</p><p>“My sentiments exactly.”</p><p>He crouched down and she climbed on, wrapping her limbs around him securely so he didn’t have to hold her legs. They started off, Steve using his arms to balance and placing each step carefully to avoid rocks and hollows. Once he stumbled but righted himself before going down, splashing them both, sparking laughter. Soon he climbed out with the help of a sapling jutting from the island.</p><p>“There we go, piece of cake,” he said as she dropped to the ground.</p><p>Natasha dabbed at her wet face with her damp running shirt, and Steve turned and offered a dry spot on the tail of his long-sleeved T. She wiped herself off, then smirked at him as she pulled her tangled hair, fallen out of its braid, into a ponytail. “Wow, I must look fantastic right now.”</p><p>“Yes, you do,” he said with all sincerity. “You are the loveliest person I’ve ever been around.”</p><p>“That’s sweet,” she responded. “You’ve seen me in ugly situations.” She remembered some: smeared with her own blood, with someone else’s, soaked with sweat, bruised, filthy in a dozen ways, sobbing, exhausted, in agony.</p><p>“Yep. Doesn’t matter,” Steve said. “You’re always you, therefore always wonderful.”</p><p>Natasha was jolted by a realization, something she read beneath his affectionate expression: He had also seen her dead, crushed by a fatal fall. For him to see her alive in any condition was a victory. She gave him a quick squeezy hug around the middle.</p><p>“Let’s go decide whether the view lives up to expectations.”</p><p>They emerged from the shrubs close to the downstream end of the island and climbed onto the damp, mossy rocks at the cliff’s edge. The view down the canyon was gorgeous, but the spectacle of the twin falls spilling over just a couple of meters away on either side was jaw-dropping.</p><p>Natasha found firm footing in a niche; the water’s roar and mesmerizing flow gave her a touch of vertigo. Steve planted himself behind her on a slightly lower ledge and wound his arms around her torso. It was for protection and so she’d feel more stable, but mostly an excuse to hold her. They contemplated the expansive view for a few minutes, his head resting on her shoulder.</p><p>“Remember Niagara Falls?” he asked. He spoke near her ear so he didn’t have to yell.</p><p>“Absolutely. The little island we went out on between the two American falls. This is like that, only way better.”</p><p>“It should be. Takes a lot longer to get to. Harder journey.”</p><p>Natasha turned in his arms and drew him close, their faces level with each other. She looked into his eyes, bluer than the sky. “Completely worth it,” she said.</p><p>Steve knew she wasn’t talking about the waterfall. He leaned his forehead against hers a moment, then studied her eyes, green and flecked with sunlight like the forest. “I’m the luckiest man in the world. It will always be a mystery how an amazing woman like you could have fallen for someone who’s as big a dork as me.”</p><p>Natasha deployed sarcasm. “Yeah, can’t imagine what I could possibly find interesting or attractive about you. Granted, you are indeed a huge dork.”</p><p>“But somehow you love me anyway.”</p><p>“I do,” she declared.</p><p>Steve carefully wiped a last droplet of water from her cheek with his thumb, then cupped the side of her face with his hand. “And I love you.”</p><p>Natasha’s smile started slow and grew wider as she drank in the words she had known were true but longed to hear. She leaned in and kissed him. They continued, with increasing intensity, until they were both dizzy. Stopping out of self-preservation, they reset their footing, amused at their precarious situation.</p><p>Far below, Okoye, on a sunny rock far enough from the base of the falls to remain dry, relished her contemplative solitude, lulled by the crash of the whitewater and the calls and songs of countless birds. After the red-bellied parrot she’d been watching swooped from a nearby tree back into the jungle, she looked toward the top of the falls and blinked in surprise. Something had appeared between the twin cataracts. Squinting, she focused and discerned that it was two entwined figures, standing like the sculpture in the grandest Roman fountain ever devised. She smiled to herself at the dramatic, romantic, dangerous tableau, which seemed somehow perfect. Of course those two would venture where others feared to tread.</p><p>After their kiss, Natasha and Steve remained locked in embrace, mesmerized by each other’s eyes and presence. Time passed unheeded amid the unceasing rush of water; the fresh breeze and cool blessing of the mist enveloped them. Standing on a slippery rock amid a Niagara-sized waterfall in the center of a roadless wilderness, in a foreign country far from where they’d lived their previous lives, neither had ever felt so safe, or so at home.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0026"><h2>26. What Friends Are For</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Natasha decides to contact Clint. Steve, T’Challa, and Okoye discuss recent events, new projects, and old friends. The king makes Steve a startling offer.</p><p>Rating: Teen and Up<br/>Content Note: alcohol consumption</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hi! I thought I would clarify that the way I interpret certain movie dialogue, Okoye and W’Kabi don’t have children, so that’s why none are mentioned in the conversation about him.</p><p>Thanks to those of you who've been patiently waiting for a new chapter. I was very distracted by the USA elections, and this chapter also gave me some trouble in structure and content. Hope you enjoy!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Under rainy skies, the palace was quiet, the afternoon light dim. The country had adopted Sunday as a day that most people had off, to match the workweek of the international community. Natasha was curled up in a chair in Steve’s living room reading a hologram <i>New York Times</i> projected from her new phone. He stood in the kitchen finishing a bowl of leftover groundnut soup.</p><p>“Uh-oh. Here’s a promo for an in-depth story about the Captain America situation. Supposed to appear in next Sunday’s <i>Times</i>,” she noted. “Uses words like ‘alarm,’ ‘doubt,’ and ’troubling questions.’”</p><p>He winced. “Great. I’m sure Sam is thrilled.”</p><p>“There’s a photo of both of you, in which you look calm and confident, and he, um, doesn’t.”</p><p>Steve shook his head. “Sounds like the editor or publisher has it in for him. I’d have thought the media would leave it alone by now. I’ll discuss with T’Challa.”</p><p>“Aren’t you late for your meeting?”</p><p>“I need to go in a few. You don’t mind my disappearing for a couple of hours?”</p><p>“Course not. We should solidify our friendships here. What better friend could you cultivate than the king?”</p><p>“I’m still not sure why he wants to spend so much time with me.”</p><p>“You’re smart, interesting, and he admires you. If he can get you to relax you’re also fairly amusing. What’s not to like?”</p><p>“Maybe he misses having W’Kabi around.”</p><p>Natasha nodded. “That could be. Shuri said they were close, and now he’s in prison. And it must be hard to forgive your best friend for defecting to your bitter enemy.”</p><p>“Speaking of people who defected, and best friends . . .” Steve trailed off, with a questioning look.</p><p>“Yeah.” Nat was thoughtful, maybe resigned. “I slept on it. I do want to contact Clint. I hate feeling that I’m deceiving him about my ‘death.’ When I meet with Okoye and Mutombo tomorrow, I’ll get advice on the logistics.”</p><p>“Nothing about me, though, right?”</p><p>“Right. I’m not going to tell them where I am, even.”</p><p>“I’ll give T’Challa and Okoye a heads up. I’m going to talk to them about what I might be able to contribute here.” Steve took a last swig from his water glass and put his bowl in the washbasin. He came over behind Natasha and massaged her shoulders. “You staying?”</p><p>“Yup. A lazy rainy Sunday afternoon doing virtually nothing. Should be here when you get back. If I need to leave, the door software will let me in.” She smiled up at him. “Convenient.”</p><p>* * *</p><p>A half hour later, Steve, Okoye, and T’Challa stood on the covered balcony outside the king’s apartment, watching the rain. With no breeze to speak of, it fell straight down, rushing through gutters, washing the pavements, and making leaves bobble and bounce.</p><p>“After the drought of the past few months, rain is soothing,” T’Challa said with a satisfied smile.</p><p>“Much needed and welcomed by the people,” Okoye added.</p><p>Steve held a glass of twelve-year-old American Eagle bourbon, which the king had obtained in his honor. T’Challa’s glass was already empty. He had poured himself just enough for a toast—to Natasha’s continued well-being—because he wanted a sober and substantive talk with his guest. Okoye had declined the liquor with thanks, noting that she was on call.</p><p>The Wakandan leaders had approved their intelligence agency’s assistance with Nat’s outreach to Clint and Laura. Okoye turned the conversation to a related topic. “You have read Tumeli’s roundup of intelligence regarding Capt. Wilson?” she asked. “There is more acceptance that you are gone for good. Though much lamented.”</p><p>“Sam’s introduction still isn’t going well,” Steve noted with a frown. “I wanted to ask your opinion about something. You too, your highness.”</p><p>T’Challa glanced at Okoye before saying, “As both of you are on a first-name basis with me, you need not be formal when only we three are present.”</p><p>Okoye’s eyebrows went up but she did not comment.</p><p>“I appreciate the privilege,” Steve said. “T’Challa, would it be beneficial if I wrote something about why I wanted Sam to take over? Natasha suggested that the War Dogs could plant it.”</p><p>T’Challa nodded. “A fine idea. The supportive statements from governments and organizations have not obtained traction in the media. With only a few known words from you about the situation, there has been a gap in the discussion.”</p><p>“I’ll work on it. I’ll have a couple of related letters to deliver the same way, perhaps?”</p><p>“Of course. To Capt. Wilson?”</p><p>“Yes. And Bucky. I owe them more explanation than I gave.”</p><p>“In my contacts with him, Sgt. Barnes has not seemed unduly upset by your leaving, but he is rather hard to read,” T’Challa offered.</p><p>Steve decided to probe further, unsure it would be welcome. “You always refer to him by last name. Did you not get to know him well?”</p><p>“You and Sgt. Barnes have not spoken about this?” Okoye asked, puzzled.</p><p>“We didn’t communicate much while he was recuperating; I was on the run for most of that time. We had little opportunity to catch up when I got here before the Battle of Wakanda. And then he was gone. After the Blip, his experiences in Wakanda didn’t come up. He doesn’t talk as much as he used to.”</p><p>“He expressed gratitude for our assistance and hospitality,” T’Challa said. “But in general he is private, cautious. His apprehension about whether he could trust his own mind persisted even after successful treatments. He became close to a few individuals here, but is deferential and quiet around me.”</p><p>“The same with me, and Shuri too,” Okoye added.</p><p>“Maybe he thought he had to earn your respect, given his past crimes, even though he wasn’t responsible.”</p><p>Okoye agreed. “Although he was helpful to our forces as a volunteer on several occasions, he never seemed to think he had fulfilled his obligation.”</p><p>“Whatever the cause, he’s not his old self, though I see flashes of it,” Steve said. “I have to trust he’ll recover someday. Being around Sam is really good for him. Sam has a more lighthearted personality than I do, and he’s sensitive to Buck’s mental issues.”</p><p>T’Challa stared out at the rain again. “I am sorry your circumstances dictate that you must leave your friends.” He sounded wistful.</p><p>“Thank you. It will be hard, at least for awhile. I’m fortunate that my best friend is with me. What about you?” Steve asked. </p><p>“What do you mean?” T’Challa answered, with a wary air.</p><p>“It must be difficult to maintain open and honest friendships in your position,” Steve said, coming at the subject from a tangent. He didn’t want to mention W’Kabi by name with Okoye present.</p><p>“It can be a challenge,” T’Challa conceded.</p><p>Okoye looked sidelong at Steve and suppressed a smile. He was more subtle than she had given him credit for. He appeared to be seeking T’Challa’s reasons for taking such an interest in him. She too was curious, and decided to help.</p><p>“Leading up to the Battle of Mount Bashenga, many Wakandans came to a crisis in their relationships with friends and family,” Okoye said to the American. “Some ended up on opposing sides. Including me and my husband, and the king and his best friend. I speak of W’Kabi, of course.”</p><p>T’Challa was surprised that Okoye had steered the conversation this way. He was reticent to discuss matters close to his heart, but knew he should be open with Steve if he wished to cultivate him. “Yes, he and I were dear friends, and I relied on his counsel. I miss him, and I wish him no ill, but I remain disappointed, to say the least.”</p><p>“I can relate, to a certain extent. Concerning friends I violently disagreed with,” Steve said.</p><p>T’Challa smiled slightly. “But of your three closest friends, one attacked you only when brainwashed, one has remained loyal throughout, and the other opposed you on one notable occasion—until she switched sides.”</p><p>“Yes. And she is thankful you’ve forgiven her for that,” Steve said with a polite nod.</p><p>“After getting to know her better, it was easy to do. As opposed to W’Kabi.” T’Challa seemed to have trouble even saying his former friend’s name aloud. “I have not spoken with him since he was imprisoned.”</p><p>“I have,” Okoye said quietly.</p><p>T’Challa turned to her. “I did not know. I thought you were completely estranged.”</p><p>“Before the Snap, I checked in with prison authorities about his welfare, but did not speak to him directly. And then . . . You must remember that for over five years he was like you, among the vanished,” Okoye pointed out. “I mourned him, and regretted that I had cut off all contact. After we returned from America, I felt compelled to see him again.”</p><p>The king wondered at Okoye’s candor in front of a relative stranger. Apparently she had extended the trust she had formed with Romanov over the past five years to her partner as well.</p><p>“How is he?” T’Challa asked.</p><p>Okoye shook her head sadly. “He is not as humble as I had hoped. Instead of expressing remorse or trying to reconcile, he took the opportunity to plead for on-time release.”</p><p>Steve was confused. “As opposed to what?”</p><p>T’Challa sighed. “His sentence is complete at the end of this year. But because he vanished in the Snap, he did not actually ‘do time’ during the more than five years until the Return. Should he, and others who disappeared during their prison term, serve more time so they actually experience the entire sentence? This is a question we are wrestling with, as are other nations.”</p><p>“I believe sentences should be extended,” Okoye said firmly. “That way the punishment of those who Remained and those who Returned will be equal. If W’Kabi’s case is any indication, such inmates should see the full measure of imprisonment.”</p><p>“What do you think, Steve?” T’Challa asked.</p><p>Steve looked down into his glass just as the last of his ice disappeared. The American Eagle was no longer on the rocks, he thought.</p><p>“Justice would dictate what you say, General. The dictates of mercy are otherwise. I’ve been told that the experience of dissolving in the Snap was horrifying. Should that be considered equal to five years of imprisonment?”</p><p>“It was indeed unpleasant and frightening, but only briefly,” T’Challa said. “I believe the trauma was worse for those who Remained, and more prolonged. Also consider that those who disappeared while in prison suffered no more than the most innocent child who did so.”</p><p>“This is true,” insisted Okoye. “A key point is deterrence, for the criminals in question and more generally. That would be lessened by letting them go on time.”</p><p>“This particular situation will never occur again,” Steve said. “Would cutting these folks a one-time break really influence them, or future criminals?”</p><p>“I am unsure,” Okoye admitted. “I do not know if there is any precedent to examine.”</p><p>“If a prisoner got sick and was comatose for a year, would you extend their sentence?” Steve asked.</p><p>“I do not think so,” the king said.</p><p>“Is this different?”</p><p>Okoye was pensive. “You have a point. Perhaps I allow my bitterness toward W’Kabi to influence me.”</p><p>“It may come down to the culture of criminal justice in Wakanda, and how you want to influence it,” Steve said. He felt insecure about how much he was talking. He didn’t want to be that guy, the interloper parachuting in with glib answers.</p><p>T’Challa congratulated Steve. “A good preliminary analysis. I have commissioned a report from our Division of Justice on the matter of incarceration. Would you be willing to review a draft?”</p><p>“If you want, sure. But I have no expertise.”</p><p>“Still, I would welcome your feedback, as a royal advisor.”</p><p>Steve chuckled and Okoye looked amused. T’Challa did neither.</p><p>Checking with Okoye for a clue, Steve could see that she was in the dark as well. “You’re not serious?” Steve asked.</p><p>“Entirely so. You have said on multiple occasions that you desire to make a positive contribution, to ‘earn your keep.’ You could do so by serving as one of my advisors.”</p><p>Okoye seemed perplexed but not alarmed at T’Challa’s offer. Steve had imagined tasks that the king might suggest in return for their refuge, but such a job hadn’t been one of them. “I confess I don’t feel qualified, though I’m honored. Wouldn’t want you to be disappointed.”</p><p>“I doubt I will be,” T’Challa answered. “But we have thought of another way you might help, as well. Can I count on you to maintain confidentiality concerning what we are about to tell you?”</p><p>“No question,” Steve said. “You keep my secrets. I keep yours.”</p><p>T’Challa nodded to Okoye.</p><p>“The Design Group has been working on an ambitious project for more than six years,” the general explained. “Progress was made even during the dark times, and Shuri is now enthusiastic about the possibilities. If you would consent to an interview about the Avengers’ time tunnel apparatus, we would be much obliged.”</p><p>“You guys are working on your own time machine?”</p><p>“The short answer is yes. Do you have reservations about rendering assistance?”</p><p>“Ours wasn’t a military or other government project, so there aren’t any federal legal implications. Technically I’m under a non-disclosure agreement with Stark Enterprises, but . . .”</p><p>“I would say that is unenforceable at this point,” T’Challa asserted.</p><p>“Surely I don’t have enough technical knowledge to be of any use,” Steve said.</p><p>“You were present for much of the original testing and have used the final system. Shuri said that even small clues about, for example, the destination controls could be helpful,” Okoye explained. “Or formulation of the ‘particles’ invented by Dr. Pym.”</p><p>“She could study the gear and particles I have in my suitcase,” Steve said.</p><p>The Wakandans blinked at him in surprise. “You have Pym particles you are willing to turn over?” Okoye asked.</p><p>“I have five left, I think. I’d like to keep two; if I needed to go get more, one will facilitate that and I’d want a backup. Anyway, you could take mine whenever you want; they’re in your territory.”</p><p>T’Challa assured him, “We would not violate your privacy or your personal belongings unless we had to in case of emergency. Which this is not.”</p><p>“Without an imminent threat, why are you working on this? Huge potential for bad consequences. The Avengers only went forward because of the extreme stakes. There’s a reason the UN is locking down what we used.”</p><p>“After events such as the Battle of New York and Thor’s arrival, it was obvious to us that the Earth was in a new era. We were being attacked by civilizations advanced in technology and, essentially, magic,” Okoye noted.</p><p>“Much as Mr. Stark wished to armor the world, we also moved ahead with scientific research to counter these unprecedented threats,” T’Challa added. “Our local defenses were already excellent, but we prepared to go further. And now, the concept of technological time travel has been proven. The djinn is out of the lamp,” T’Challa said.</p><p>“It will not be long, UN lockdown or no, before the ability becomes more widely available,” Okoye declared. “Those who will most urgently seek it will be those most likely to abuse it. We wish to have our own—and better—method tested and ready should we need it.”</p><p>“Well, if there’s anyone I would trust with time travel, it would be you guys,” Steve said. “I’ll help however I can.”</p><p>The general looked at a bead on one of her bracelets, which had begun to glow. With a gesture she brought up a holographic message, then dismissed it. “I am late for an appointment with Leader Ayo,” she said. “She is reminding me of it. Gentlemen, if you will excuse me, I must now go.”</p><p>T’Challa saluted her and she returned it. She looked expectantly at Steve, who took his cue. He set down his glass and performed the salute double-armed, having received instruction from the general during their outing the previous day. The Wakandans appeared gratified.</p><p>Steve watched as the uniformed general retreated through the apartment. “You’d think the head of the armed forces would get Sundays off,” he said.</p><p>“My mother prevailed upon her to go with you to the falls yesterday,” T’Challa said. “Having two days off in a row still feels odd, she says. It will take awhile for her to relax after the ordeals the country has endured the past few years.”</p><p>Steve drained the last of his whiskey and set the glass back on the table. “T’Challa, this advisor business.” He trailed off.</p><p>“The position would be very much behind the scenes, if that is what concerns you.”</p><p>“Because there are some within Wakanda who wouldn’t take kindly to an outsider with ongoing influence?”</p><p>“The primary reason is your clandestine status. ‘Steve Holden,’ even in disguise, installed as a known official would attract attention that could lead to your discovery. But as you observe, it also avoids conflict with certain partisans.”</p><p>“I’m not sure I should accept, even on an informal basis. I have no higher education or personal experience in government.”</p><p>“I do not wish to twist your arm, as they say. You are welcome here in any case, without obligation. But please give it thorough consideration.”</p><p>“I will. And I’ll find out what Natasha thinks. Funny—earlier this week she and I were discussing what to do if a serious security crisis arose. We agreed that if you requested our assistance we’d give it without hesitation. We were assuming it would be in our usual realm: kicking ass and taking names, as the American saying goes. Not so sure about the direction you’re pointing me.”</p><p>“Again, you limit yourself. You have a keen mind, extensive life experience, and a highly developed moral sense. I need an advisor and confidant with those traits more than I need another soldier, even the finest.”</p><p>“Confidant?”</p><p>“Your perspective is valuable and your character trustworthy, to say the least. It is remarkable that you have appeared on my metaphorical doorstep at this time in my life, and as Wakanda evolves its participation on the world stage. I do not think it happenstance that you are here.”</p><p>“You seem to believe we can be of mutual benefit.”</p><p>T’Challa grinned. “I do. Another advantage is that I will avail myself of Ms. Romanov’s judgment and expertise as well, since you will surely get her take on difficult topics. Two for the price of one, I believe the phrase is.”</p><p>“A package deal, huh?”</p><p>“Of course.”</p><p>“You’re confident that will remain true?”</p><p>“I am. I do not believe she will allow you to get too far away. Either in space, or in time. And vice versa.”</p><p>Steve imagined Natasha, cozily lounging in his apartment. Knowing where she was, and that she was safe and comfortable, allowed him to relax his ingrained vigilance.</p><p>“I hope you’re right. I like this business of not having anything in particular to worry about. Nothing earth-shattering, anyhow.”</p><p>“You remind me that the dilemmas which provoke my anxiety pale in comparison to threats we have faced in the past,” T’Challa mused. “See, already you are having a positive effect on my thinking.”</p><p>“I’m happy to do what I can,” Steve said.</p><p>The two smiled at each other, then silently turned their gaze back to the steadily falling rain.</p>
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<a name="section0027"><h2>27. Is This Thing On?</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Natasha records a draft of a message to Clint. She gets cold feet and discusses her trepidation with Steve, which devolves into a more personal encounter.</p><p>Rating: Teen and Up<br/>Content Note: Sexual themes</p>
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    <p>After Steve left for his meeting, Natasha finished perusing the news sections and began the crossword. She set the holographic puzzle to “pencil” mode rather than “pen” so she could erase answers if need be; she didn’t have anything to prove to anybody. After about a half hour, though, she gave up. The prospect of contacting Clint distracted her.</p><p>I might as well work on a recording, she thought. He’ll need video to be sure it’s me; I’ll figure out later how to get it to him.</p><p>Natasha had dressed casually that morning, in exercise gear: a long-sleeved maroon shirt and black yoga pants. Nothing African; her clothing wouldn’t give her whereabouts away. She found a nondescript space against a plain wall, from which she removed and set aside a charcoal of the late King T’Chaka. She made herself comfortable on the floor so the style of the furniture would also afford no clue, and set the phone on a low end table. She launched the recording app and properly framed her face.</p><p>Staring at the simulacrum of herself on the little screen, she racked her brain about what to say. How do you announce that you’ve come back from the dead? To the dear friend who saw you die?</p><p>Just start talking, she told herself. You can always edit it, or delete and chalk it up to practice.</p><p>She pressed RECORD.</p><p>“Hey, Barton. Long time no see,” she started, with a wry smile. “Yes, it’s me, alive and kicking. I’m doing well. I hope you and the family are too. First thing I need to say is please do not reveal, to anybody, anything in this message. Keep it all a secret. You can share with Laura, but not the kids. I’ll explain why in a minute.</p><p>“Second thing is to give you evidence I’m no imposter. So. I bet you remember the night manager of the cafe in Budapest that got bombed. We put in the debriefing report that his name was Karoly. It was actually Vilmos. I’m positive you and I are the only ones who know we changed it, and also why we’d remember it.</p><p>“To prove there are no time shenanigans and I’m talking to you from the present day: I watched the Avengers press conference debacle this past Monday. Congratulations on your official retirement and advisor status, by the way.</p><p>“Third is to answer your number one question: How the hell am I sitting here talking to you?” Nat looked down a moment, then spoke extra carefully. “The in-a-nutshell version is that when Steve took the Soul Stone back, he was able to . . . arrange things so that my body got healed and I revived. He returned me to Earth, then he went off to the past. I’ll leave it at that.</p><p>“I’m safe, someplace where I have good contacts and support, but I’m not telling you where. I’ve been checked out by excellent doctors and they say I’m fine. When the stone restored my body, it even fixed injuries from before—scars have disappeared, for example. Check out my hair, back to its natural color,” she added with a smile, shaking her ponytail toward the camera. “Even when I first came back, I knew who I was and recognized the people around me. It’s been a couple of weeks, and now, honestly, I feel great.</p><p>“Clint, I really hope you don’t feel obligated to reveal me to the team—TAO, they’re calling it. They’d want me back, I imagine, and I sure as hell don’t need the kind of media circus I’m seeing around the organization right now. I’m giving you a minimum amount of information so that if you have to tell on me, or this video somehow gets leaked, I’m not totally exposed. I’m asking you to not let the kids in on this because Nate is so young. He can’t understand the importance of secrets, and I don’t want Cooper and Lila to have to keep something from him. I’m sad that they won’t know that their auntie is OK, but if all goes well you can tell them when he’s eight or nine, when you think he can handle it.</p><p>“So why don’t I want anyone to know I’m here? Because this is a great opportunity, which is highly unlikely to ever arise again, for me to start a new life. It’s like I faked my own death, except it wasn’t fake. Like you, I’ve had enough of the business that we were in. I want to do something different, and be able to stop looking over my shoulder all the time. I want to stay disappeared. It would have been safest to not contact you at all, but I can’t help myself. I know you’ll both be relieved, and happy for me.</p><p>“Clint, I also want you to know that it was already fine, and would always be fine, even if I’d stayed dead. It had to happen the way it did, or else Thanos never would have been defeated in the end. We did the right thing. Now I think <i>this</i> is the right thing.”</p><p>Natasha leaned forward and pressed the virtual stop button. She would edit in a closing when she and the security pros figured out whether she could include an invitation to talk live somehow. She switched to hologram mode and replayed the video she’d just made.</p><p>About halfway through she paused it, feeling a little sick to her stomach. Part of her was screaming that she shouldn’t do this, that it presented too much danger of exposure. She was ninety percent sure Clint and Laura wouldn’t tell anyone including their children, but that ten percent chance felt too high.</p><p>She was surprised at how strong her reaction was. A week before she’d still been toying with the idea of going back to her former occupation, but today the prospect of it provoked minor panic. Now that she had the potential for a peaceful life with the man she loved, the other avenue appealed not at all.</p><p>Another factor in her unease was that it was impossible to explain her presence without mentioning Steve’s involvement. Even so, he’d never once objected to her contacting Clint, though it presented a risk to his own successful disappearance. She would maintain to the Bartons that he’d gone off to the ’40s, and steadfastly avoid what happened later. But the notion that he had done more than return the Infinity Stones during his time journey would inevitably spark the question: What else might Cap have failed to disclose?</p><p>Natasha heard the door lock disengage, and Steve came in. He was wearing an earth-toned batik shirt perfectly tailored to his form, atop snug jeans. From her vantage point on the floor, she leaned over to see around a chair as he traded his sandals for slippers. She’d always enjoyed watching him in moments when he didn’t know she was around—he was freer and even more graceful when he wasn’t self-conscious. At those times, the man could not help but be sexy.</p><p>Steve glanced around and spotted her in the corner. His face registered puzzlement, then cleared as he deduced the answer to his first question and asked a second.</p><p>“Done with your video?”</p><p>“Dunno yet. Still reviewing.”</p><p>“Are you all right?” he asked, coming over to her. “You seem kind of shaken up.”</p><p>“I’m having a bout of cold feet. There’s a danger that reaching out to Clint will end badly, and I’m feeling that a lot right now.”</p><p>“You can certainly take time to think about it. No rush. But I think you’ll continue, in the end. You guys are really close and you want him to know you’re alive.”</p><p>“I appreciate that you’re not trying to talk me out of it. It could affect you too.”</p><p>“We minimize threats as much as we can, and live with the risks we decide are worthwhile.”</p><p>She brought her knees up to her chest and clasped them with her arms. “Have you thought about contacting Sam and Bucky? Maybe not right away, but when the Captain America thing settles down?”</p><p>He put his hands on his hips and sighed. “I’ve considered it, sure. After they’re settled into in their new roles. I see a problem, though. If I wait long enough so they don’t reflexively want me to come back, that could be awhile—six months, or a year, whatever. That would also be long enough for their anger toward me to diminish. If I revealed what really happened, it might be like ripping open a healed wound. Would it be better for them if I left well enough alone?”</p><p>“I’m not sure. But you might regret it if you never reach out.”</p><p>“I know I’d miss those guys for the rest of my life. Doesn’t make contacting them the right thing to do. I might have to accept that I’ve lost them. Just like I would have if I’d stayed in the past.”</p><p>Steve wanted to change the subject and lighten the mood for what remained of their day. “Hey, wait’ll I tell you about my meeting with T’Challa and Okoye. I have a job offer, but I’m not sure I want it.”</p><p>“Ooh, an interesting development. A job doing what?”</p><p>“An advisory thing. It’s kind of vague.” He bowed playfully toward Nat and offered her a hand up. Instead of accepting the help, she leaped nimbly to her feet.</p><p>“You’re in mighty fine shape for a recently dead person,” he said with a grin.</p><p>“I’ve been doing the low-key exercises the doctor prescribed, but I feel like I’m ready to train for real.”</p><p>“We don’t have to work so hard at it anymore, you know,” Steve pointed out. “Hell, we could even pull a Thor if we wanted.”</p><p>She chuckled. “I don’t want to go that far. Maybe it makes sense to take the core fitness regime down a couple of notches, but the martial arts component is fun. Hey, you wanna go fight right now? There’s a room off the atrium that they use like a dojo.” Natasha perked up at the thought of a vigorous sparring match.</p><p>“No way,” Steve said, shaking his head. “That would be crazy. You’re still recovering from a fatal injury. Doc M’Gaji would be very angry at me.”</p><p>She pouted. “I feel fine, though.”</p><p>“I’m glad. But you know what? Even if you’re perfectly healthy and able, I don’t care to, anyway. Fighting is not what I want to be doing with you.” He let his eyes linger on her curvaceous body in clingy clothing, tantalized by the way she moved.</p><p>Natasha felt the surge of energy from him and it was answered by her own desire, the warmth and tingling and sinking she had always fought when they were alone. Now that they were open about their feelings for one another, he sometimes allowed himself to look at her with frank lust. She’d seen a similar expression on many a man’s face, but only this one sent a thrill throughout her body.</p><p>Steve recognized what he’d sparked. He exercised discipline and didn’t reach out to her. He agreed, in his mind anyway, with her decision to put off further intimacy. A serious kiss during a free afternoon when they couldn’t go outside was an invitation to open the floodgates between them.</p><p>Nat’s discipline did not hold. She went to him as though he were a magnet, wrapping an arm around his waist and grasping his shoulder with her other hand. At her touch, he readily gave in. He worked the elastic band from her hair with gentle tugs. Picking up her hand, he slid the band over it to her wrist, caressing her fingers as he did so. It invoked for both of them the memory of their far-off Romanian encounter, though neither spoke of it.</p><p>She reached up to encircle his neck, urging his face closer to hers. He tangled his fingers in her soft hair as they kissed luxuriously, deeply. His lips tasted faintly of expensive whiskey.</p><p>As with their first kiss, she soon found herself with legs turned to jelly, and it was worse because she was standing. But his arms slid down around her and he held her up without missing a beat. Her mind told her sternly to halt the proceedings, though her body insisted on continuing. Finally she managed to stop. She rested her head on his chest, leaning into him and enjoying the rise and fall of his excited breathing.</p><p>“Well,” Natasha said. “Seems like you’re used to ladies swooning in your arms when you kiss them.”</p><p>“Only two,” he answered as she looked up. “I figure it’s not what I’m doing. It’s how you feel about me.” His smile blossomed into a grin as he saw the passion in her gaze.</p><p>“It’s both,” she murmured. She could look at his relaxed, happy face for hours. “That reminds me. Have I told you lately that I love you?”</p><p>“Not since yesterday. I love you, too.” He brushed his lips across her forehead.</p><p>“I think I’m going to have to go back to my apartment and take a cold shower.”</p><p>“Want some company?”</p><p>“That would subvert the point of the cold shower, Rogers. I’ll take a rain check. No pun intended.”</p><p>“I’ll hold you to that. I plan to hold you to a lot of things,” he said slyly and pulled her more firmly against his body.</p><p>“You are not helping, man.”</p><p>He relented with a smile, raising his arms as if in surrender and shuffling back a half step. “OK, we’ll chill out. I get that you want there to be more distance between me and my ex before moving forward. That makes sense.” Dropping his arms, he considered what he’d just said. “It feels so weird to talk about ‘my ex.’ I never imagined I’d have one.”</p><p>“I hope you’ll stick to just one.”</p><p>“I intend to.” Steve reached out and smoothed her hair, making her sigh. His expression had turned intense, almost brooding.</p><p>“What’re you thinking about now?” Natasha asked, concerned.</p><p>He stared unblinkingly into her eyes. “I’m trying to remember something. Something important.”</p><p>Nat held her breath a moment while he concentrated.</p><p>“What did we order for dinner? I’m hungry.”</p><p>She burst out laughing, an ample reward for his little joke. They looked at each other fondly, dazed smiles on their faces, getting used to the unfamiliar feeling of being happy.</p>
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<a name="section0028"><h2>28. Girl Talk</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Four powerful women discuss identity, technology, and leadership after the Blip: Natasha, Okoye, Shuri, and War Dog officer Desta (OC). Desta is highly wary of the former Avengers, but Natasha wins her over.</p><p>Rating: Teen and Up<br/>Content Note: Sexual themes</p>
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    <p>At 15:03, Desta Mutombo stood staring out the window of Shuri’s palace office suite. She wondered why the princess, and the usually prompt Gen. Okoye, were late. The three were set to meet with Natasha Romanov, now known as Kathryn Sheen; that she was late was no surprise. The woman was well thought of, but Desta assumed the positive aspects of her image were overblown. Like most famous “heroes” with catchy nicknames.</p><p>Deputy Director Mutombo had been in the espionage business long enough to earn her jaded attitude. She’d been recruited to the War Dogs at the age of twenty-two after four years in the King’s Guard. By the calendar she had served twenty-five years and was now forty-seven; in years of life, she had served twenty and was forty-two. The Snap and Blip, as the Americans called the phenomena, had upended hierarchies dependent on seniority and merit. Mutombo had been in line for the directorship when she’d vanished into dust, and now one of her rivals had ascended to the position. He’d been the most senior leader left standing. Desta was still coming to terms with the situation. Her delayed advancement was unfair to her—it wasn’t her fault she’d perished in Thanos’s random cull—but to negate Negasi’s promotion would be equally unfair to him.</p><p>Losing interest in the dreary view of the continued rain, Mutombo switched focus to her own reflection in the bombproof, crystal-clear glass. She’d grown up within the Border Tribe but was of mixed ethnicity. Her square stout frame, and impassive face topped with a short, no-nonsense fringe of curly hair, enabled her to blend in anywhere there were people of African heritage. A long habit of dressing to deflect attention stayed with her even though she now had little occasion to be in the field. Wearing a nondescript brown tunic and trouser set, she was an excellent spy who looked like a farm wife, an ace tactician and martial artist easily assumed to be dull and slow.</p><p>She noted a moving flicker in the window reflection and turned to greet Okoye. The general saluted and Desta returned it smartly.</p><p>“I was delayed in my meeting with Leader Tumeli,” Okoye explained, in Wakandan. “I also received a text from Shuri. She is bringing a research assistant with her from the Design Group headquarters.”</p><p>“Understood. Any word on Ms. Sheen?”</p><p>“I have not heard from her. She will turn up.”</p><p>Desta’s face betrayed more irritation than she had intended to let show. Okoye frowned. “You have a negative opinion of our guest based merely on tardiness?”</p><p>“A famous American with a fanbase among Wakandan girls is likely to be less than considerate of others’ time. Of course that’s not the only information I’ve gathered on her. I read the intel dump on Black Widow back in the day. Damning enough in itself, and I assume it’s whitewashed. Reality is usually worse.”</p><p>“She recently laid down her life to obtain one of the stones that enabled the Return. I would think that would be more relevant to you.” The general paused pointedly.</p><p>Desta refrained from an obvious retort; since Sheen was alive, the sacrifice was dubious. From the sketchy stories Desta had reviewed, the alleged death rested on the word of just two men, who might have a variety of motives for lying.</p><p>“Her physical courage and excellent spycraft are well known in our business,” Mutombo conceded. “She’s now said to have acted selflessly on some distant planet, but it’s speculation. No way of knowing the particulars for sure. It is my duty to be skeptical of any outsider being suggested as a key participant in our confidential research.”</p><p>“So you regard the testimony of Ms. Sheen and her comrades as suspect. Does Shuri’s enthusiasm for her not sway you?”</p><p>“Shuri is brilliant in multiple fields, but I must make a judgment on behalf of the War Dogs, based on my own observations,” Desta said diplomatically.</p><p>“Kathryn and I fought side by side during the Battle of Wakanda, and I consider her a friend,” the general added, with a hint of challenge.</p><p>That was new information, and it surprised Mutombo. “I was out of the country during the battle. Since I Returned, I’ve been reading up on what happened while I was gone, but haven’t run across that item. I saw that you both served in the Avengers during the Interim.”</p><p>“She was not only a colleague, but our leader, and a fine one,” Okoye declared. “The endeavor would have failed if not for her perseverance and inspiration.”</p><p>“Of course, your endorsement is influential,” Desta acknowledged. “I still question why we would allow her to be privy to matters of Wakandan national security. We should also be wary about her sharing information with her fellow visitor.”</p><p>“You understand who ‘Mr. Holden’ is, do you not?”</p><p>“Yes. Another American with a clichéd nickname and a reputation I regard as less than credible. And one who has already received many favors from Wakanda.”</p><p>“I had not remembered that your cynicism was quite so extensive,” Okoye said with a raised eyebrow. “His highness places a high level of trust in Mr. Holden.”</p><p>“Enough that we should cease to worry about his ladyfriend leaking secrets during pillow talk?”</p><p>“Yes, actually. He already knows about the time travel project; yesterday T’Challa disclosed it and requested his assistance. Also—and this is confidential, by the way—he asked Mr. Holden to serve as a royal advisor.”</p><p>Mutombo was finally surprised enough to show it. “He thinks that much of him?”</p><p>“He does.”</p><p>On the one hand, Desta was impressed by royal approval. On the other, she had to wonder about T’Challa’s judgment. She was not the only one, Remained or Returned, who was privately ambivalent about his reascension to the throne. Ramonda and Okoye had managed admirably in his absence and had represented a more modern form of leadership. Their perspective as women was also important in a country where more than half the population was female.</p><p>However, it was also true that during the dark times of the Interim the two caretakers had moved aggressively on the integration of Wakanda into the world community, as T’Challa had championed. Those with a cautious attitude toward entanglement with former—sometimes current—colonizers and oppressors felt their point of view was poorly represented at the top of the hierarchy. It was left to lower ranking officials to try to slow the process.</p><p>Desta was determined to scrutinize these Westerners that leaders seemed intent on bringing into the highest circles. The Avengers’ effectiveness as fighters and in clandestine operations was undoubted. It was their reputation as “good guys” that failed to impress her. Unless she could confirm details and motives unimpeachably, she knew tales could swell in the telling, especially if publicity about heroic deeds was in the interest of the powers that be.</p><p>Mutombo smiled benignly and assured Okoye, “Don’t worry. I’ll keep an open mind about Ms. Sheen and Mr. Holden. But I make my calls on personal experience, not hearsay.”</p><p>Okoye found Mutombo’s suspicious stance tiresome, but knew it was an occupational hazard of spy culture. She decided not to argue about the facts of their guests’ careers and the content of their characters. Desta had to reach her own conclusions. The general had no doubt she would come around.</p><p>At that point Shuri arrived, attired in an off-white wrap dress. Following her was a young woman. Slender and of moderate height, she had a cafe au lait skin tone and a bundle of braids gathered at the back of her head. A green long-sleeved light cloak swathed her to her knees and she wore tall black boots.</p><p>Shuri saluted and the general and deputy director answered it. “I’m sorry we’re late,” the princess apologized. She formally introduced Okoye and Desta to the new assistant, who behaved with deference to her elders.</p><p>“It is an honor to meet both of you, and to be involved in a groundbreaking project with the Design Group,” T’Yana said. Her voice was high-pitched and velvety, and Desta guessed from her inflection, gestures, and hairstyle that she was of the River Tribe, though her clothing was unusual.</p><p>“T’Yana was educated abroad during the Interim,” Shuri explained. “She brings to us both a keen mind and a different perspective on the challenges of time travel.”</p><p>“Where did you study?” Okoye asked, intrigued. This impressive person should already have been on her radar.</p><p>“I started in Russia but my most recent courses were in the US,” the young woman answered.</p><p>Mutombo was about to ask for more detail on her schooling but was derailed when Shuri broke out laughing. T’Yana stared at her in apparent confusion, then the princess tapped a finger behind her own right ear.</p><p>“I can’t take it anymore—turn it off,” Shuri managed to say while still laughing. T’Yana smiled and nodded, then performed the same gesture. “As you wish, princess,” she said.</p><p>The young woman’s braids began to disappear. Rather, the appearance of them did, as a retreating flock of nanobots revealed a different hair texture and color underneath—an auburn ponytail of gentle curls. The bots continued to expose the rest of her head, and hands as well; they constituted an elaborate electronic disguise. Desta was astonished at the tech, which she hadn’t yet seen deployed in this manner, and at the fact that the model under the mask was a white woman.</p><p>Midway through the changeover, Okoye’s mouth dropped open as the true identity of T’Yana became obvious. “Were you using a voice changer?” she asked.</p><p>Natasha responded in T’Yana’s voice, continuing to speak in Wakandan. “No, that’s all me. What do you think of Shuri’s latest toy?”</p><p>“Quite impressive,” the general said to a beaming Shuri. To Desta, she added, “I imagine your people will find it very useful.”</p><p>“You must be Deputy Director Mutombo,” Natasha said as she tossed the now-encapsulated disguiser to the princess, who playfully caught it.</p><p>“I am. Pleased to meet you,” Desta said, recovering her composure quickly, as might be expected of an experienced secret agent.”I’ve heard much about you, of course. I was wondering why you were so late.” She reserved comment on the visitor’s mastery of both verbal and body language. The woman had fooled two keenly perceptive Wakandans into taking her as a fellow citizen.</p><p>“I’m going by Kathryn Sheen, as you’ve heard, but I’d be happy if you would refer to me as Kat.”</p><p>Something about Natasha’s confident yet respectful manner and her astonishing skill charmed the older woman. “Certainly. If we’re being informal, please call me Des.”</p><p>“Your first and last names are from different regions.”</p><p>“Yes, my grandmother was from Addis Ababa and my grandfather from a Congolese village. I speak their languages, as well as Swahili and of course Wakandan. And a few others.”</p><p>“We should compare notes,” Natasha said with a smile.</p><p>“I am being a poor hostess,” Shuri exclaimed as she moved to a narrow table against one wall. “Let’s have some tea while we talk.” She turned on an electric kettle. Wooden mugs had already been set out.</p><p>“A mechanical ‘on’ button? Where’s the holographic interface?” Nat asked with an exaggerated frown. “I’m disillusioned, Shuri.”</p><p>Shuri smirked. “Sometimes a button is all you need.”</p><p>In a few minutes the women had steaming mugs in front of them as they sat at a round hardwood table. They debated improvements to the new disguiser, and Natasha offered to give Shuri one of the old SHIELD photostatic veils to study. “Primitive compared to yours, but you might find the appearance controls of interest. The fine-tuning of skin texture is really useful.”</p><p>“It will be fun to take apart all this technology,” Shuri said eagerly. “I understand Steve is bringing over a nanotech suit and Pym particles soon.”</p><p>“He is? News to me,” Nat said.</p><p>“Do you object?” Okoye asked.</p><p>“No, it’s fine. He just didn’t happen to mention it. He doesn’t tell me absolutely everything, only about ninety-five percent. Though I suppose I wouldn’t know if the percentage were lower.”</p><p>“When we talk about time technology I should interview both of you in the same session. You might spur each others’ memories,” Shuri suggested.</p><p>“True. I studied the specs more, but he observed the early trials with Bruce.”</p><p>Desta was surprised at the visitors’ level of involvement in operational details of their former organization. Perhaps they actually were more than fighters and figureheads.</p><p>“Steve is the person who has experienced time travel the most, by far,” Shuri noted. “He’s the best opportunity I have to study TAO’s implementation. I don’t think Dr. Banner would be willing to collaborate given the UN ban.”</p><p>“Speaking of TAO,” Okoye broke in, “they still haven’t publicly recognized you and your sacrifice, Kat. May I have your approval to move forward with pressuring them?”</p><p>“You’re not going to let this go, are you?” Natasha asked with a sigh.</p><p>“No. Remember that it’s not just on your behalf. This is for the future, to ensure that the contributions of women are given at least some of their due,” said Okoye.</p><p>“Wait another couple of weeks at least,” Nat suggested. “They’re rebuilding a shattered organization. Saying nice things about dead me can’t be high on the priority list.”</p><p>“As time goes by it may slip further down,” Shuri asserted. “We should make private overtures, if nothing else yet. As an advisory council member, I can talk with Dr. Banner and Col. Rhodes.”</p><p>“I have a routine videoconference scheduled with Carter, and we have backchannel communication with Barnes. What about Barton?” Okoye asked Natasha.</p><p>“I’ve made a recording, which I trust Intelligence will be so kind as to transmit to him. I was hoping Desta’s tech people would help me arrange to talk with him later, without letting on where I am. I don’t intend to bring up a memorial, but he might volunteer info about any discussions.”</p><p>“The War Dogs can certainly do that,” Desta affirmed. “We’d strip the metadata from your recording or replace it with disinformation, as you prefer. A secure channel can be cloned for a live feed at will. We can discuss the details at your convenience.”</p><p>Mutombo was surprised at herself. She’d eagerly volunteered to assist with the American’s plan. Romanov/Sheen gave the strong impression of being open and upfront. Either the onetime Black Widow was telling the truth about her former fate or she was the best liar Desta had ever encountered.</p><p>“Thank you,” Natasha said, looking Desta in the eye. “It’s tough, figuring out how to approach the man who saw me jump off a big-ass cliff and land with a splat. I’m glad to be able to rely on others for the tech side. Revealing my survival to him isn’t the smartest thing I’ve ever planned to do, but I don’t want to lose this particular friend. Long ago, he spared me from death, then got me out of a bad situation. Gave me back my life twice.”</p><p>Beyond the disarming honesty and bent humor, there was an undercurrent of pain that Natasha allowed to be seen, which made Desta feel as though they had more in common than she had imagined.</p><p>The four women continued talking for another twenty minutes, sorting out research and testing plans. The conversation evolved into a more general vein, rich with anecdotes about interesting operations from the past. Shuri looked like a kid in a candy store listening to the stories, some harrowing and others hilarious, occasionally both. Once the teakettle was finally empty, they agreed to meet again soon, just for fun.</p><p>Okoye stayed on for a further discussion with Shuri while Natasha and Desta headed toward the door.</p><p>“I appreciate your giving us a chance, and lending me your group’s cooperation,” Nat said quietly in Swahili.</p><p>Mutombo was about to dissemble, but she took a look at her companion’s face and decided not to bother. Romanov had read her like a book, which was dismaying but not surprising given the younger woman’s experience and skills.</p><p>“It’s my job to be suspicious,” said Des. “Your careers are frankly legendary, so I can’t be sure how much to believe. Especially about the outlandish things that have happened recently.”</p><p>“I get it. There are obvious questions. Did we really do all that? If so, why? Are we taking credit for others’ actions? Can we be trusted? I don’t blame you. All I can do is point you to the quality of the people who vouch for us.” Natasha relaxed into a smile as she continued. “You put a lot of stock in your personal experiences. You should meet Steve or you’ll never believe his rep. Which is very much deserved. I say so, and I’m a tough audience myself.”</p><p>“Oh, come on,” Desta retorted. “How tough an audience can you be for your lover?” Des used a word that would translate in English as a combination of partner, favorite, and bedmate. It was a bold thing to say to someone she’d only met that day, but she had quickly become comfortable with the American.</p><p>“We’re not actually sleeping together,” Natasha said archly, switching to English.</p><p>Des raised an eyebrow. “Why not?</p><p>“It’s complicated.”</p><p>“Do you find him attractive?”</p><p>“Overwhelmingly.”</p><p>“Are you in love with him?”</p><p>“Ridiculously.”</p><p>“Do you trust each other?”</p><p>“Completely.”</p><p>“Then it’s not that complicated,” Desta asserted.</p><p>“It kind of is. There’s an ex-wife in his very recent history.”</p><p>“What are the chances he’d go back to her?”</p><p>“Zero,” Natasha admitted.</p><p>“Does he love you?”</p><p>“Undoubtedly. He’s been carrying a torch for me for years.”</p><p>“Then it’s still not that complicated. What are you waiting for?”</p><p>“Certainty. Stability.”</p><p>“Is life, in general, uncertain?” Des demanded.</p><p>“Terribly.”</p><p>“And short?”</p><p>“Recently, very short,” Nat said with a sigh.</p><p>“There you go. You may want to rethink your dedication to complications,” Desta declared.</p><p>Natasha stuck out her hand and shook Desta’s in Western style. “Mutombo, this may be the beginning of a beautiful friendship.” They both grinned as Nat held the door for Des and they headed into the palace hallway.</p>
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<a name="section0029"><h2>29. Hi, I'm Not Dead</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Clint and Laura get Natasha’s message, they have a video conversation, and Clint muses about all the remaining questions about what really happened and his role in it.</p><p>Rating: Teen and Up<br/>Content Note: near death experience</p>
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    <p>When his phone buzzed, Clint Barton was putting tools away after replacing a fouled spark plug on the tractor. He stripped off his disposable gloves and pulled the phone out of his jacket pocket as he headed toward the barn door. Probably Rob or Betsy about some detail of Thanksgiving dinner the next day, he assumed.</p><p>It wasn’t. The screen indicated a text from “Vilmos Farkas” but showed no content preview. I don’t know a Farkas, he thought, before stopping in his tracks.</p><p>Suddenly he remembered the name. Only one person would associate it with him. And she was dead.</p><p>It was enough to get him to click through to the message, which read, “Mr. Barton, have a seat before watching this video.” He wasn’t in the habit of obeying orders from dead men, but this was odd and intriguing enough that he sat down on a straw bale. Once he launched the texted video, he was glad he had.</p><p>Ten minutes later, Clint was staring distractedly at a gap between the weathered floorboards when his wife appeared in the open doorway.</p><p>“Honey, are you done with the—what’s wrong?” Laura asked in alarm as he wiped his eyes with his sleeve. She saw he was holding his phone. “Did you get bad news?”</p><p>“No. Really good news.”</p><p>“Sure doesn’t seem like it.”</p><p>He looked up at her, dazed. “I’m kind of floored right now.”</p><p>“Well, what is it? You can’t leave me hanging!”</p><p>“Where are the kids?”</p><p>“In the living room, watching TV and peeling apples. Why?”</p><p>“Sit. Watch this.”</p><p>Laura frowned but settled next to him as he pressed replay and handed her the phone. She had to pause the video three times to collect herself before she finally got through it.</p><p>She leaned over and hugged Clint. “This is amazing. The clue she gave you was genuine?”</p><p>“Yeah. It’s her. I’m still gobsmacked. I can’t believe that son of a bitch pulled it off.”</p><p>“He didn’t tell you he was going to try?”</p><p>“Not a word. I guess I can’t blame him. I discouraged him about it once already, and what if it didn’t work? Now I know why he wouldn’t talk about Nat at Tony’s funeral. I was going to ask about some sort of memorial for her, and he clammed up. I bet he was already thinking about what he was gonna do.”</p><p>Laura put a hand on his knee. “You planning to report this to the team?”</p><p>“No. She deserves to decide how she uses her new life.”</p><p>“She’s right about the children. It would be wonderful to let them know, but they’d tell somebody. It’s not just their auntie, she’s a big hero. Too cool to keep secret.”</p><p>“I’m tempted to figure out her location. I’d need technical help to get into the code of the video and how the message came in. Might be able to track the transmission.”</p><p>“Sweetie, I wouldn’t bother. She’s too good at this stuff to make mistakes like that. And we should respect her wishes.”</p><p>Clint nodded, then looked over at Laura with a smirk. She grinned and asked, “So where do you think she is?”</p><p>“My first guess is Wakanda. Number two would be Germany, maybe Heidelberg. Or Switzerland.”</p><p>Laura was surprised. “Not the States?”</p><p>“Too close to HQ, such as it is. Definitely not the Northeast or Mid-Atlantic. Cap would take her somewhere there’s excellent medical care and she has trusted contacts, but not too big a city. Someplace they’d be willing to keep her under wraps without a huge bribe. Seems like he planned for her dropping out.”</p><p>“Are you going to ask when we call her tonight?”</p><p>“Are we calling her tonight?”</p><p>“Why not? She said she’d be standing by at the burner number between ten and eleven our time. She knows the kids’ll be in bed.”</p><p>“I sure have questions, but I don’t know if she’d answer them.”</p><p>“We don’t have to ask her anything, you know. We can just listen to what she has to say, and let her know how things are here.”</p><p>“What would I talk about? Considering the last time I saw her . . . ”</p><p>“You say, ‘I’m so happy you’re alive and well and I’d love to see you in person.’”</p><p>“But I left her, I didn’t go back—”</p><p>“Hush. You didn’t have a way to get there or any other reason to go, and he did. If she were upset she wouldn’t have contacted you.”</p><p>* * *</p><p>After an afternoon and evening going through the motions of the family routine, Clint’s curiosity won out. He and Laura settled in at ten sharp to make the call. The number had a Louisiana area code, but that meant nothing. Natasha had said in her video there would be tech magic behind the scenes to reroute the call securely.</p><p>Rhodey had talked Clint into accepting TAO’s current secure phone, which had a holographic projector. He thought it was overly fancy, but for a video call it was handy. They made sure the bedroom door was tightly shut.</p><p>Nat picked up on the fourth ring and her smiling face appeared in the air above the device. “Clint! Laura! Happy Thanksgiving.”</p><p>They stared a moment, still a little disbelieving.</p><p>“Romanov, this stunt takes the cake, I gotta say,” Clint managed. “You always did have a flair for the dramatic.”</p><p>“Oh Natasha, it’s so good to see you, I just can’t . . .” Laura trailed off, overcome.</p><p>The background behind Nat was different from the recorded video but equally featureless. “It’s wonderful to see both of you. Laura, welcome back from the great beyond. Um, did either of you share the news of my reversed demise?”</p><p>“No, and we don’t plan to,” Clint said, as Laura shook her head. “This is a TAO phone, though. It might have a back door. No reason I know of for them to monitor me, but I can’t guarantee they’re not.”</p><p>“Don’t worry, countermeasures are handled on this end. Thanks for keeping me on the down low. How are you all doing?”</p><p>“We’re great,” Laura asserted. “You want the detailed report or the executive summary?”</p><p>“I want to hear everything, especially about the kiddos,” Natasha said eagerly.</p><p>Laura proceeded to fill her in on their lives since the Blip, with Clint chiming in now and then. Strangeness with classes and teachers, school chums who were now five years older, friends who’d remarried and then were presented with their previous spouses, various challenges all outweighed by the sheer joy of the Return.</p><p>“This is the biggest Thanksgiving ever, in terms of what we have to be grateful for,” she wound up. “And now another incredible blessing, that you’re back home too. Or wherever you are,” Laura added innocently.</p><p>Natasha smiled and ignored the not-so-subtle feeler. “Clint, what do you have going on now that you’re retired? You just gonna be a bum?”</p><p>“My life’s ambition,” he said dryly. “I’ve got my federal service pension, and a stipend for being an Avengers advisor. There was an inheritance that we had to partially refund because Laura’s aunt Blipped back, but we’re OK financially. I have a business idea working, though.”</p><p>“Do tell. Farming arugula or making goat cheese or something?”</p><p>“Not hardly. Archery instruction using distance learning. Looking to do packages with equipment, videos, and teleclasses with me.” He seemed a bit embarrassed.</p><p>“That’s a great idea! You’re the world’s most famous archer, why not? ‘Hawkeye’ brand?”</p><p>“We’ll see. There are lawyers working on whether I can use it exclusively. TAO isn’t too thrilled, specifically Rhodey and Sam, but I don’t care. I never liked being saddled with the name so I figure the least it can do is make my family some money.”</p><p>“To each his own,” Natasha said. She considered telling a story about trademark battles over Captain America merch, then decided to avoid steering the conversation in Steve’s direction.</p><p>“Somebody tried to market Black Widow tasers once,” she said instead. “You remember, Clint?”</p><p>“Doesn’t ring a bell. I’ve slept since then.”</p><p>“Stark had his people send a cease and desist. I don’t know if we had a legal leg to stand on, but the letter included a veiled threat, noting that I wasn’t happy. They desisted.” She looked down before adding, “I guess if someone wanted to try that again, I’m in no position to object. Being dead has advantages and disadvantages.”</p><p>“Natasha, enough about everybody else,” Laura said. “We want to hear about you. We can’t help but worry after what you’ve gone through. You look great, but how are you really?”</p><p>“Aw, you’re sweet to worry, but no need. I have a clean bill of health, and the medical care here is ace. I’m safe where I’m living. I can work when I need or want to. I actually have a lot of skills that don’t involve intrigue and ass-kicking: secretarial, logistics, IT, sales. I’ve got time to figure out what I want to do with my life, and I’m going to take it.”</p><p>Clint watched her with narrowed eyes. “Wakanda?” he asked suddenly. Laura elbowed him.</p><p>Natasha’s face betrayed nothing, not the tiniest twitch of an eyelid. “Ground rules, Barton,” she said flatly. “I won’t talk about where I am. Not playing a process of elimination game with you.”</p><p>“Fine,” he groused. “As long as you’re OK there. But what I don’t understand is why Cap left you alone when you were vulnerable. I give him props for doing whatever he had to do to get you back, but it’s bizarre he’d just dump you and run off somewhere in the past.”</p><p>“Another ground rule,” Nat said evenly. “We don’t talk about Steve.”</p><p>“You’re upset about what he did, aren’t you?”</p><p>“I won’t talk about him, nor will I talk about why I won’t talk about him. Period.”</p><p>“Jeez, all right, all right. Can you tell us what went down on Vormir?”</p><p>“I was dead for most of it, then alive but unconscious. Can’t narrate what I wasn’t awake for. I came to on Earth feeling a little weird, but in no pain. It took a few minutes to realize it wasn’t some sort of afterlife.”</p><p>“He didn’t stay long enough to tell you what happened?” Natasha stared at him silently, and Clint realized she wasn’t going to respond. He exhaled in frustration.</p><p>“Do you remember anything from when you were . . . on the other side?” Laura asked. Clint was surprised at the question.</p><p>“I do,” Natasha said. “It was pleasant, actually. I give it a ten out of ten, would die again.” The Bartons laughed and shook their heads in wonder; Nat’s dark sense of humor was intact.</p><p>“It’s something we’ll all have to go through. Some of us twice. But I don’t remember anything after the Snap,” Laura said.</p><p>“The process of dying kind of sucked, but it was quick. It was for a purpose that I chose, so I was OK with it. Then there was a floating among the stars experience.” She paused, and Clint sensed that her next words were for him. “I encountered no judgment, by the way.”</p><p>“Maybe you didn’t get that far,” he retorted.</p><p>“Maybe. All I know is, I’m grateful. On a lot of levels.”</p><p>“We’re grateful to you, Nat,” Clint said with a catch in his voice. “You brought my family back, and you made damn sure I was alive and available when they showed up.”</p><p>Laura followed with, “We can never thank you enough.”</p><p>Natasha was about to quibble, then remembered what she frequently told Steve: Be gracious. “You’re welcome. I played one part in making the Blip possible. And I hear that everybody and their raccoon helped out in the final battle.” She almost tripped up and mentioned Clint’s specific role in safeguarding the gauntlet, but caught herself. That detail would only be known to a few people, none of whom she wanted to reveal contact with.</p><p>“We’re having dinner tomorrow with our neighbors. When we talk about what we’re thankful for, we’ll mention devoted friends and think of you. What are you planning for Thanksgiving? Turkey and all the trimmings?” Laura asked brightly.</p><p>Natasha waggled her finger in a “no-no” gesture. “Nice try. Not giving you guys any hints through my T-Day menu.”</p><p>“Oh, honey, if you trust us not to reveal you’re alive, you can trust us not to reveal where you are,” Laura pleaded. Clint looked sideways at her; she’d talked him out of pressing Nat on this.</p><p>“No go, my friend. It’s not the brightest move in my position to contact you at all. One of these days, I’ll have aliases solidly established. Nothing I’ve used before, Barton, in case you were wondering. Once I can travel, maybe I could visit, or meet you somewhere.”</p><p>“That would be great,” Clint said. “Glad to see you as a hologram, but we wanna give you a hug.”</p><p>“I look forward to that so much. Until then, we can check in every month or two. I’ll text you ahead and we can make a date.”</p><p>Clint felt the conversation coming to a close. There was something he needed to ask. “Some of the team have been discussing a memorial for you,” he said uncomfortably. “For opsec reasons I should go along with it. Is there anything you’d like me to push for, or against?”</p><p>“Whatever they want to do, or not, doesn’t matter to me,” Natasha said dismissively. “I can’t give any energy to it when I’m so thrilled to be alive.” She shifted closer to the camera. “I’m really doing well, guys. Mentally and emotionally too. I have high hopes for my future.”</p><p>“Then we do too,” Laura said, extending her hand as if she could touch Natasha’s face. “We appreciate you reaching out to us. It means so much.”</p><p>“You’re a giant pain in the ass, and we love you,” Clint said.</p><p>“I love you too,” Natasha said. “Give the kids big smooches but don’t tell them who they’re from. See you next time.” They saw her lean forward, and the feed went dead.</p><p>The couple stared a moment at the spot where her image had been.</p><p>“What do you think?” Laura asked, taking his hand.</p><p>“She looks good as new,” Clint answered. “Sounds good too. Though touchy about her whereabouts, and about Rogers. I still lay odds she’s in Wakanda.”</p><p>“Wherever she is, Steve is there too,” Laura declared.</p><p>“Wait, what?”</p><p>“I have a feeling it’s why she won’t say anything about him at all. She’s willing to withhold information, but she doesn’t want to straight up lie to us.”</p><p>“You think Old Cap went to wherever she is?”</p><p>“Maybe. Or maybe he’s not old.”</p><p>“Three of my colleagues saw him as a really elderly man.”</p><p>“Yes, it seems impossible. And we just talked with a dead woman. In this day and age, who knows what might have happened?”</p><p>“I’m not buying your hunch. Leave the theorizing to the professionals,” he said with a smirk.</p><p>“I can’t. We’re not telling the pros about this.”</p><p>“‘Professionals’ means me.”</p><p>“Wanna bet on it?”</p><p>“Sure. Twenty bucks says Cap’s not with her.”</p><p>“To hell with wagering community property. A month of dishwashing says he is. Thirty days, three meals a day.”</p><p>“Oof, you’re laying down a serious stake. But I’ll take that bet.”</p><p>Later, as he lay in bed listening to Laura’s slow, steady breathing, Clint’s mind kept replaying the conversation with Natasha. She’d sounded vital, enthusiastic, warm. She had pointedly claimed there was no final reckoning about doing wrong. No doubt she wanted to reassure him about the fate of his alleged soul in the face of the killings he’d committed after the Snap. But it also implied that she didn’t judge him for not rescuing her.</p><p>On the other hand, her evasiveness about location and alias showed a lack of trust, and there was her stonewalling about Rogers. Laura had her speculation, but he thought Nat’s reticence was because she was upset that Steve had left her for Peggy in the end.</p><p>As devoted as Clint and Natasha were to each other, she played some things consistently close to the vest; her relationship with Steve was one. She insisted they were friends and comrades only, but Clint had thought that someday they might get together, and probably should. Laura believed the same.</p><p>As for Cap, he could be hard to read, especially when it came to women. He never engaged in “locker room talk” and it wasn’t allowed in his presence—he pulled both rank and old-fashioned moralism to shut it down. He was never anything but gentlemanly around Natasha, not in a stiff way but like a genuine friend. Clint had felt snubbed when Rogers and Romanov began to partner on two-person ops in the SHIELD days; he and Nat had previously been the go-to team. But he soon got over it. They were undeniably excellent together and the alternative duo gave Clint more time to be with his wife and growing family.</p><p>That awful day Natasha didn’t come back from Vormir, Steve had been distressed but not devastated, Clint thought. At least, he hadn’t revealed any feelings that deep around others. There had been something off about Cap since then, though. Hard to put a finger on, but his vibe was scrambled somehow, although he presented as focused. After the big battle had been won, it was as though the icy cold that had encased Rogers for decades had encroached again. His stare was frozen in place for long periods of time. It seemed to cost him huge effort to have a normal conversation, and his smile disappeared. Laura thought he was grieving, but Clint, in hindsight, had chalked it up to preoccupation with his looming escape to the past. Now they knew that wasn’t the only side trip he’d made after returning the stones.</p><p>The damned stone. Clint would have taken on a year of dishwashing to know how the hell Rogers had negotiated with, or begged, or tricked the Soul Stone into restoring Natasha. Clint again felt bad about his failure to act. He could have asked the team to let him return the stone to Vormir and make some Hail Mary play. Or lobbied to go with Cap on that leg of the journey. But he’d done neither, accepting the pronouncement of Red Skull on the futility of trying. Which turned out to be false, as Thor had suggested. Had Steve told her how thoroughly he’d been convinced by the red floating apparition?</p><p>On the call, Clint had detected a hint of reserve between Natasha and himself. If this was the reason, he couldn’t blame her. He’d forfeited an opportunity that Rogers had seized. Clint realized his outrage at Cap for leaving Natasha was a way to deflect the blame he placed on himself for not doing more. Of course she was going to stonewall; she didn’t want to hear any disrespect for the man who gave her back her life from the man who hadn’t even tried.</p><p>Anyhow, his feelings about it didn’t really matter. Nat’s back and Cap’s gone, he thought. That’s the way it is. Clint sent up good wishes into the universe for both of them, wherever they were, and turned over to try to get a few hours sleep before the busy holiday with his family.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0030"><h2>30. Thanksgiving</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>A holiday dedicated to giving thanks provides a perfect setting for a deep dive into some touchy topics for Natasha and Steve. </p>
<p>Rating: Mature<br/>Content Note: Significant sexual themes; mentions of rape, sexual violence, birth control, and PTSD</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This chapter refers to an incident told in flashback in Chapter 16, in case you skipped that one.</p>
<p>I really hadn’t planned my writing schedule so Chapter 30 would go up around the holiday it’s set on, but it worked out that way! Finished it this evening. </p>
<p>Happy Belated US Thanksgiving to those who celebrate, however you managed to celebrate in COVID World 2020. Peace and gratitude to all readers, writers and artists in the AO3 community!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“What’s the weirdest Thanksgiving Day you ever had?” Natasha asked Steve.</p>
<p>“Lemme think about it. Definitely not this one. It’s been great,” he said.</p>
<p>They were in Natasha’s living room, each sprawled in a chair after finishing a huge dinner. Chef Gana had marked the US holiday with a mini-feast, even though they hadn’t asked her to. She had obtained a small turkey from somewhere and roasted it beautifully. When she’d helped deliver the food, she made it clear they would be having leftovers for days. The dressing included local nuts; the yams contained African spices and no marshmallows; saut<span>é</span>ed greens provided an effective counterpoint; and pumpkin pie was a sweet treat. A delicious melding of cultures.</p>
<p>Steve’s eyes narrowed as he considered Nat’s question. “Thanksgiving 1944 was pretty much nonexistent for my team,” he recalled. “Eight of us spent the day taking out a small HYDRA installation deep inside Axis territory in the Italian Alps. To mark the occasion we ate K rations instead of C rations that night.”</p>
<p>“You had something to be thankful for.”</p>
<p>“Yeah. We survived, and they didn’t.” Steve regretted bringing up the incident. After a particularly nasty fight, what had happened to the HYDRA survivors still haunted him through the occasional nightmare and sleepless aftermath. He would probably never tell anyone, even Natasha. He’d been on the verge of confiding in Sam once, but he’d hesitated and now it wouldn’t happen. Bucky knew but they’d not spoken of it since that day. Everyone else who had been there was dead.</p>
<p>“What’s your odd Thanksgiving story?” he asked. “After you moved to the US, of course.”</p>
<p>Natasha could tell he was diverting the conversation from that long-ago day. She wondered why, but let it drop. Plenty of time to explore memories, bad and good, in the future.</p>
<p>“The strangest for me was one you and I and Sam spent together. 2016.”</p>
<p>He nodded. “Right. We’d just made it across the border into Armenia. No time to get supplies before holing up in that old house above Varagavan.”</p>
<p>“Sam found some food in the cupboards, but no salt. Bland boiled bulgur and chickpeas aren’t exactly festive. I was thankful for the savory and mint you gathered outside.”</p>
<p>“I was thankful the Azerbaijanis we were running from didn’t find us up there. Would have been rough.”</p>
<p>“I’ll drink to that,” Natasha said, raising her glass of fragrant tea. She was amused that commercially packaged “pumpkin spice” beverages had penetrated into Wakanda.</p>
<p>Steve raised his glass in answer, then drained it. Nat swept her wavy hair behind her shoulders and contemplated his new beard. He’d started it as soon as he returned, so it was less than two weeks old and already looked good, though sparser than it would be soon. His remarkable regenerative capacity on display. Thinking about their time on the run, Steve’s metabolism, and his beard sparked another memory. She wondered if he shared it.</p>
<p>“Do you happen to recall a snowy night in the Carpathians later that winter?” she asked. “We were stuck outdoors, waiting for—”</p>
<p>“I remember,” he interrupted.</p>
<p>“In your sleep, you had your hand next to mine and—”</p>
<p>“I wasn’t asleep.”</p>
<p>“You weren’t? I heard you dreaming. Your breathing was ragged.”</p>
<p>“I hoped you’d think that. I was having trouble controlling my breath and my heart rate.” He was looking at the floor and blushing.</p>
<p>“Because you were turned on, maybe?” she hazarded.</p>
<p>“Yes. Being that close to you for hours, in your warmth, your energy, your scent, with my arm across your body and your hand on mine—incredibly arousing.”</p>
<p>“I felt the same. I couldn’t stop touching you, even though I worried you’d wake up and wonder what was going on. It was so intensely erotic that I . . . I came. Just lying there together with your fingers caressing mine.”</p>
<p>Steve’s eyes opened wide. “You did?”</p>
<p>“Yes.” Natasha blushed, which hadn’t happened in many years. “I was deprived then. That was the closest thing to sexual contact I’d had for a long time. I suppose that’s why I became so sensitive. It’s not uncommon for women to reach orgasm without touching the usual parts, but that’s the only time I’ve ever done it. Do you find this uncomfortable to talk about?”</p>
<p>“Uncomfortable is not exactly the word I would use. It’s fine. Actually, it’s amazing, considering . . .” He glanced away.</p>
<p>“Considering what?”</p>
<p>Steve looked at her shyly. “The same thing happened to me,” he said, almost inaudibly.</p>
<p>“Oh my. Really? I didn’t know men could, um, do that.”</p>
<p>“It’s unusual but not unheard of. I read up on it. I was deprived too, as you might guess. Remember when I squeezed your hand very hard?”</p>
<p>“Yes. I gripped yours just as hard for the same reason. So from what you’re saying, we’ve kind of had sex already.”</p>
<p>“Kind of. Depends how you define it.”</p>
<p>“I say it counts. I can put another notch on my bedpost.”</p>
<p>“That’ll be another for me then, too. Yay me,” Steve said with a half-smirk.</p>
<p>“Just the two?” Natasha queried, watching him closely.</p>
<p>“Yes,” he said, without a hint of embarrassment.</p>
<p>“I always wondered. Even though we teased about it, it was never clear to me if you really hadn’t been with anyone.”</p>
<p>“Yep. Speculation about my virgin status was on the money.”</p>
<p>“You ended up saving yourself for marriage, whether you wanted to or not. Can I ask you a personal question on that front?”</p>
<p>“Sure. But a conversation this intimate feels wrong two meters apart.” He stood and extended his hand to help her up. They went over to the cushioned bench and sat down close together. It felt to them as though they were taking a step forward in their relationship, emotionally if not physically.</p>
<p>“Peggy was able to have kids, but she didn’t become pregnant while you were there, right?” Natasha asked. “There was no Pill in 1949, so . . .”</p>
<p>“Condoms. I was concerned about her being sidelined with a child before she could establish her leadership. According to her history in our timeline, she needed to wait a few years before having kids. I took a bunch of Trojans with me; better than the ones available back then. Fellas used to complain about the quality. I almost ditched the things there, but it was risky, if someone happened to find one. The packages have expiration dates.”</p>
<p>“So you’ve got a stash. Though it looks like we won’t be needing them. We’ve avoided STDs, and I can’t get pregnant.” The last point was no revelation; she knew he’d read her file. Nat wondered if he’d ever tried sex without the condoms. If not, he’d be in for a treat. One of these days.</p>
<p>Steve studied her and wasn’t sure what she was thinking. He took her hand and ventured a guess. “Are you disappointed you didn’t get first shot at me, as it were?”</p>
<p>She chuckled. “I can’t complain. I spent years trying to get you laid.”</p>
<p>“Yes you did. But seriously.”</p>
<p>“It’s all good. Fitting, and sweet, that she was your first.” Natasha tucked her legs up under her and leaned back against the cushions. She didn’t really want to ask the next question, but the flow of the conversation made it an obvious one.</p>
<p>“Are you OK with what you know about my past? Lots of men wouldn’t be.”</p>
<p>“I have no problems with it whatsoever,” he said firmly. “Honestly, I don’t care. I’m not a particularly jealous person.”</p>
<p>“Years ago, a man I liked asked me where I learned about sex. I was truthful and told him it had been part of my early training, and that I’d had a lot of practice since. He didn’t take kindly to that answer.” Natasha looked Steve in the eye. “That doesn’t bother you?”</p>
<p>“When you were abused or coerced or forced, that bothers me. Because they hurt you and you have to continue to deal with the aftermath. But otherwise, your sexual history is none of my business. Who you’ve been with, how many, why—it’s irrelevant to how I feel about you.” Steve hoped she would get what he was trying to express, and that he wasn’t being offensive or too awkward. “When we’re together, whatever you’re doing for me, with me, at that moment, is all that matters.”</p>
<p>“I’m glad you see it that way,” Natasha said, relieved that he was understanding. “You might be surprised at the full story. I still retain a certain reputation, but I haven’t been with anyone in a long time.”</p>
<p>“You were pretty depressed and withdrawn in the Interim after the Snap. Like a lot of people.”</p>
<p>“Not just then. Years before as well. Not counting the incident we just talked about.”</p>
<p>Steve was surprised. “Surely you found someone since Bruce.”</p>
<p>“No. And not even him. We fooled around, but it was an odd relationship. We never got down to doing the deed.” Natasha paused as her memories riffled through her mind.</p>
<p>“Oh. I’m sorry, I suppose. For you.”</p>
<p>“It’s all right. Things would have been even weirder later on, so I don’t regret that it never happened.”</p>
<p>“But you dated before that, right? You didn’t talk about men, at least around me, but you had time away from HQ.”</p>
<p>“Here’s the deal,” Natasha said. She turned toward him and sat crosslegged, speaking earnestly. “When I came over and joined SHIELD, I made a pact with myself: never have sex for bad reasons. I’d had my consent violated in so many ways, I needed to learn to set limits. I was choosy with ops that could turn exploitive, like honey traps and using sex work as cover. And I had rules. I’d get physical only if I saw no other way to succeed, and only if I was OK with it in the moment. Fury accepted those terms, which surprised me. Off the job, I had to figure out how to conduct a personal life, which I’d never really had.</p>
<p>“Anyhow, I did date during those first several years. I made some good choices, and some not so good. I assumed I was damaged enough that I could never ‘fall in love,’ never be in a long-term relationship. But I could have something new: a sex life that I controlled, one that was reasonably healthy. Because of what I was used to, it didn’t take much to clear that bar. I set my sights relatively low—pleasure, fun, comfort, a little affection. Eventually, for a couple of reasons, I stopped.” Natasha took a deep breath. She’d been talking awhile, but she noted that Steve’s attention was still focused on her words.</p>
<p>“You care to reveal how long it’s actually been?” he asked.</p>
<p>She sighed. “About ten years.”</p>
<p>He was startled. “What? Are you kidding?”</p>
<p>“I am not. Other than our non-standard encounter, I haven’t had sex in over a decade.”</p>
<p>“That’s heartbreaking.”</p>
<p>“You think so?”</p>
<p>“You deserve pleasure and comfort and affection.”</p>
<p>“Thanks. It didn’t happen for me, for a long time.”</p>
<p>Steve was bewildered. “Why did you stop? You’re gorgeous, fascinating, seductive. You could have pretty much any man.”</p>
<p>Natasha smiled wanly. “I wasn’t going to be satisfied with pretty much any man.”</p>
<p>“There was no one, in all those years, you wanted?”</p>
<p>She looked him in the eye. “Only you.”</p>
<p>He stared back. “You . . . No.”</p>
<p>“Yes. You ruined me for other men, Rogers, a decade ago. You didn’t even have to touch me. When we first met, I was drawn to you, but I was able to set that aside. I kept up my progress toward being a halfway normal sexual being. For awhile.”</p>
<p>“What changed?”</p>
<p>“It started when we were assigned those missions together after New York. Watching you, talking with you, doing dangerous and exhilarating things by your side, relying on each other, living in close quarters. Plus all the weeks in between, training and hanging out. Our friendship grew, and we spent more and more time together. Within a year I quit dating. It wasn’t a conscious decision, I just stopped bothering. Most of the time, I believed my own rationalizations for basically becoming a nun. It was actually because everyone else paled in comparison.”</p>
<p>Steve wanted to object, to say it was ridiculous, he wasn’t all that. He realized he shouldn’t interrupt while she was pouring out her heart.</p>
<p>“While hiding out from everybody, especially you, after SHIELD went down, I became convinced that Bruce could be what I needed,” Natasha continued. “Someone who understood me better than the average Joe could, because we shared a role and a responsibility. Interesting, gentle, but older, wary, somewhat jaded, less likely to be hurt by my neuroses and freaky behavior. And there was the ulterior motive: He would distract me from you.”</p>
<p>“But it didn’t work out.”</p>
<p>“Right. Neither the relationship nor the distraction. After that, I was stuck. Couldn’t move on. Couldn’t move on you because of ethics, denial, and so many fears.”</p>
<p>“That’s beautiful in a sort of tragic way,” Steve said haltingly. “I don’t know whether I should apologize or what.”</p>
<p>“Of course not, you did nothing wrong. We’ve talked about why we kept each other at arm’s length. You should know why I stayed away from other men too.”</p>
<p>“Should we discuss why I never started seeing anyone? I mean, in the past dozen years. It’s obvious why I didn’t in the old days.”</p>
<p>“I think I know,” said Natasha. “First, Peggy.”</p>
<p>“Sure. Eventually, though, I knew I should move on. Hell, she told me that. Still, sometimes I felt guilty for being disloyal, and I had that damned compass as a reminder.”</p>
<p>“You were also shy, and didn’t understand modern ways.”</p>
<p>“After a couple of years that faded as I got more comfortable in my new world.”</p>
<p>“Did you fear scandal?”</p>
<p>He nodded. “Casual dating seemed unsafe and awkward. Not just because of possible bad press for the organization. I got plenty of attention, and opportunities to meet people, but too many of them didn’t seem to comprehend that I’m an actual human being. I cringed at the thought of going out with someone who was only interested in Cap and didn’t care about Steve.”</p>
<p>“There’s a word for those who throw themselves at the famous. Rhymes with bar-sucker.”</p>
<p>“Yeah. To avoid that, I could ask out an insider, someone who worked for SHIELD or the Stark group. Like most of the women you tried to set me up with. But for them I was in a position of power, formal or informal. I didn’t want to take advantage, or be seen that way.”</p>
<p>“Any other reasons?”</p>
<p>“Only one, but a big one. I was tangled up in my feelings for you. Like you said, I couldn’t muster much enthusiasm for anyone else.”</p>
<p>“Not even the cute ‘nurse’ across the hall.”</p>
<p>He chuckled. “I made some overtures, but it didn’t exactly catch fire. One time we . . . Never mind. There was interest, but not enough. You did suggest her once.”</p>
<p>“It was funny—I didn’t know who she really was. Fury hadn’t shared with me his little surveillance and protection scheme. ‘Kate’ was the only possible date you’d ever brought up so I thought I should encourage you. Didn’t find out she was Agent 13 until you told me.”</p>
<p>Steve took her hand again. “We’re quite a pair, you and me. Noble or pathetic?”</p>
<p>“Both. But it doesn’t matter anymore. Everything’s changed now. We can be together without hurting anybody, including each other.”</p>
<p>Something shifted in Steve’s demeanor that Natasha picked up on immediately. It felt almost like a flash of fear. “What’s wrong?” she asked.</p>
<p>“You mentioned hurting each other. I think about that, and I didn’t know how to bring it up. I worry about losing control when we . . . What if I do something that injures you?”</p>
<p>“If you get too swept up in the moment to pull your punches, so to speak?”</p>
<p>“Yeah. I could bruise you, or worse.” He had shrunk down into the cushions, as though trying to make himself smaller and weaker.</p>
<p>“You’ve had experience. Was this a problem?”</p>
<p>“No. It was different with her though. I had this background feeling that I didn’t belong in 1949. A discomfort I learned to ignore, but it kept me aware of my behavior all the time. And . . . don’t get me wrong, she’s wonderful and we had a great time together, but she didn’t make me feel quite like you do.”</p>
<p>“Which is?”</p>
<p>Steve leaned in and spoke softly, slowly, his lips almost touching her ear. “You drive me crazy.”</p>
<p>A thrill swept through her and she squeezed his hand. They remained still in the silent echo of his words. When the moment passed, Natasha said, “I think we can manage to have it both ways. To let you let go, yet not worry about hurting me. I have ideas.” She flashed a sly grin.</p>
<p>“I like the sound of that.”</p>
<p>“Trust me on this one.”</p>
<p>“I will.”</p>
<p>“You feel better about that part of our future?”</p>
<p>“I do.”</p>
<p>She noticed a tiny crease of tension on his forehead. “You still look concerned. Something else we should talk about?”</p>
<p>The crease deepened. “Yeah, there’s something else that worries me. I’m not sure I can be everything you want, and please you like you deserve. Now that I know you’ve been waiting ten years for me, I admit to feeling some pressure, here.” Steve gave her a pleading look.</p>
<p>“Dude, really? Your kissing game is tops, triple-X hot. And remember what you can do just lying next to me and touching my hand.”</p>
<p>“There is that.”</p>
<p>“Damn straight. I don’t foresee any problems in that department, whenever we get to it. It helps that we’re madly in love.”</p>
<p>Natasha unfolded her legs and extended them across Steve’s lap as he curled an arm around her shoulders. They ended the day giving thanks for each other, and for everything that had brought them together. Finally.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0031"><h2>31. Boy Talk</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>T’Challa and Steve go for a run. The king makes it clear Steve and Natasha are being drawn into a long-term association with his government, and they discover more connections.</p><p>Rating: Teen and Up<br/>Content note: description of objectified male physique</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Two men jogged along a main street in Birnin Zana, not far from the royal palace. Heads turned to watch, not because of their identity—their faces weren’t famous—but because of their spectacular physiques. One wore brief two-in-one shorts in red, the other dark blue compression pants. Both had on tight long-sleeved red-and-white shirts that marked them as members of an athletic club. Toned leg muscles rippled under the dark brown skin of the runner in shorts. Some passersby wished that the legs of the other, chestnut-hued man were bare as well, but his running tights accentuated other assets. Both men had what might be termed a heroic build: They were an inch or two over six feet tall, broad-shouldered, with flat abdomens and narrow hips. From neck to wrist and chest to ankle, the men displayed well-defined, strong musculature.</p><p>An admiring woman in a sidewalk cafe got an eyeful as they paused nearby to wait for a traffic signal, bouncing from foot to foot. Their black curly hair was cut short as befitted serious athletes, and both sported trim beards. She noted a tastefully small logo on their identical shirt fronts: a circular blue shield with a star in the middle, the word CLUBCAP below, and matching Wakandan script above. She’d seen such shirts in the past, but never on any members quite this impressive.</p><p>One man had a contoured water bottle strapped to his hand, the other wore a small hydration pack at his waist. As the runners conversed in the mix of Wakandan and English common among educated citizens, neither seemed short of breath in the slightest. It was a long light and traffic was sparse. The slightly shorter man said a few words to his partner; they laughed and dashed across the street between vehicles.</p><p>The pair accelerated as they left downtown. Across the residential areas of the city, they ran more than ten kilometers at a 5k championship pace. As they reached the sparsely populated outskirts they speeded up, until the darker man led his friend onto a dirt road forking off what had become a highway. They stopped, breathing deeply but not panting, and examined their surroundings. Seeing no one around, the leader nodded, and each man tapped a finger behind his left ear.</p><p>The nanobot disguisers they wore retreated. One was facial only and revealed T’Challa. The other had covered face, head, and hands and revealed Steve.</p><p>“A highly promising trial,” the king said, uncoiling his water tube and taking a drink. “Apparently undetectable to all the people we passed in the city.”</p><p>“Definitely. Cooler than my old one, even when running. Didn’t slip, either,” Steve noted.</p><p>“Not that we worked up a real sweat,” T’Challa said. “Are you prepared to continue to the top of Mount Milara? It is about twenty kilometers up this road. And I do mean up.”</p><p>“Sure. That should only take about a half hour.”</p><p>T’Challa raised an eyebrow. “For the length of a half marathon, uphill, you wish to run as fast as a sprinter.”</p><p>“Well, just a normal sprint speed, not my sprint. Or yours,” Steve clarified. “It’s been weeks since I’ve been able to exercise at all, and months since I could do a long, fast run—I’ve been hiding in cities all this time. I’d love to take advantage of being away from people.”</p><p>“Then we shall. Fair warning that I may lag behind, as I am not well conditioned for this. I rarely cover long distances at speed. Frankly, it is because I prefer to run with companions, and no one here can keep up.”</p><p>“I hear you. I’ve been a lonely runner over the years. It would be fun to train with you.”</p><p>“I have enjoyed myself so far today, but we will see how I feel at the top of the mountain,” T’Challa said with a grin. “What do you say we start off with a sprint? Our kind. A race to the second bend of this road, about two kilometers.”</p><p>“You’re on.”</p><p>They stashed their encapsulated masks in their water carriers and took off up the road, soon reaching almost sixty kilometers per hour. To avoid careening over the edge, they had to slow as they negotiated the first sharp, steep bend. Steve slipped a little on the loose footing, and T’Challa’s burst of speed coming out of the turn made the difference. The American was a step behind as they skidded through the reddish dirt to a stop several meters past the next turn.</p><p>“Ah, you got me,” Steve wheezed. It was exhilarating to actually feel out of breath. “Wow, that was great.”</p><p>T’Challa bent over as he sucked in the clear air of the deserted forest. “I don’t think I’ve run that fast since Berlin,” he gasped. Steve was glad to see that he was smiling as he referred to the infamous chase through the street tunnel.</p><p>“Now comes the real race,” said the king.</p><p>“Just try to keep up, your highness,” Steve replied. “Let’s go!”</p><p>Almost exactly half an hour later, they crested the last rise in the road, side by side, and saw a turnout marking the summit. In a clearing beside it were two simple masonry benches facing a matching table. The Golden City, glittering in the distance, could be seen through the gap in the trees. The king trotted over to a bench and threw himself onto it, sprawling.</p><p>“Whoever decided to put this bench here,” he panted, “I shall find him and give him a reward.”</p><p>Steve plopped down on the opposite seat and leaned on the table. “That’s the best thing about a hard workout. It feels so good when you stop.”</p><p>T’Challa nodded, still breathing hard. “I have not done such a thing in a long time. At the moment I am unsure whether to thank you or kick you. Especially because you clearly are less fatigued than I am.”</p><p>“Have some water now and kick me later.”</p><p>They drank and enjoyed the view, recovering from the exertion. Given their enhancements, that took only a few minutes.</p><p>“I admit, Steve, that I have not pushed myself to increase my fitness since I took the Heart-Shaped Herb. It has conferred athletic ability that has been adequate to all challenges, especially when wearing the Panther habit,” T’Challa said. “Black Panther is expected to practice martial arts, as those skills require honing, but training rigorously for strength and stamina is not traditional. You recommend doing so?”</p><p>“Very much. With your previous conditioning enhanced by the herb, you outmatch any normal human one on one. But if you are more fit you can be more effective against multiple attackers, a long series of opponents, or those who are armed. Being able to move larger objects is useful. So is withstanding something that falls on you. Like a building, which has happened to me,” Steve noted.</p><p>“I take your point. Recalling past battles, I can see how, if I were stronger, I could have prevailed more quickly and with less collateral damage.”</p><p>“Consider also that you may have to fight superhuman or nonhuman entities again in the future.”</p><p>T’Challa placed his elbows on the table and faced Steve. “I certainly hope not. I recall our struggle at the police station in Germany to detain your friend Barnes. I am glad he and I have become allies.”</p><p>“The enhanced individuals and extraterrestrials that we are aware of—they’re all on the same side now, thank goodness. But who knows what else is out there.”</p><p>“Defense against such unknown threats is of concern to many. Speaking of these matters, I assume you read today’s <i>New York Times</i> report concerning the Captain America situation?”</p><p>Steve sighed. “Yeah, and the War Dogs’ roundup of reactions. The reveal of Bucky as Sam’s deputy went over relatively well, but they cut Sam no slack whatsoever. Makes me wish I’d gotten my statement ready earlier.”</p><p>“Deputy Director Mutombo told me that all three of your sealed letters were placed in the mail room of the temporary Avengers headquarters on Wednesday,” T’Challa confirmed. “They were postmarked November 2nd, the day before you left, and made to appear delayed in transit. As of this morning, our agent reported the letters had not yet been delivered. Few employees have been at work, because of the holidays there.”</p><p>“Tough timing. We could have used email, but snail mail is more typical of me, and my handwriting will make it obvious they’re genuine. They’ll probably be found tomorrow.”</p><p>“Your statement shows heartfelt conviction about Sgt. Wilson’s suitability and integrity, and effectively lays out your reasons for leaving. It is too bad this major article appeared before it was revealed. How do you regard the writers’ stance toward you?”</p><p>“They seem bitter and resentful about my choice. That hurts, but if that’s the prevailing attitude, it’ll be easier for people to dismiss me and accept the new Cap. I hope.” Steve shrugged.</p><p>“The <i>Times</i> seems more hostile than most news outlets,” T’Challa said with a frown. “A number of messages of disagreement have been transmitted to the newspaper from Wakandans, and likely many others.”</p><p>Steve stretched the front of his shirt so he could see its logo. “Maybe by some CapClub members? Thanks for bagging me this thing, by the way.”</p><p>“I could not resist these as an inside joke,” T’Challa said with a chuckle. “Natasha will find one in her laundry delivery as well.”</p><p>“It’s both amusing and inexplicable that in a country with its own superhero there is such interest in various Avengers.”</p><p>“Black Panther’s missions are usually accomplished stealthily. The animal itself is nocturnal, hard to detect, and the traditional mode of its namesake is the same. Wakandans are proud of his effectiveness but most exploits are in the background, so they fail to produce spectacular tales to share.” T’Challa sat back, stretched and yawned. “In our meeting last week, it appeared that you had forsaken the Avengers for good. You are at peace with this choice?”</p><p>“Yes. If I had come back from the past and remained alone, I’d be more tempted to return to the US. I might brave the flak, sign on again, and work out a smoother transition over a few years. Even though, guilt aside, that prospect really doesn’t appeal. But it’s not just about me. Natasha is committed to building a new life, and I’m committed to staying with her,” Steve affirmed. “For now, calling us partners is accurate. We’ll see how that evolves.”</p><p>“It pleases me that you and she will remain in Wakanda. I am told that Natasha has agreed to consult with the Design Group on various technologies, such as the disguiser prototypes we tried today, and you both will assist with Project Clockwork.”</p><p>“Is that what they’re calling it? Snazzy.”</p><p>“I thought you would appreciate the name. In addition to these projects, have you given further consideration to becoming my confidential advisor?”</p><p>“Well, I started reviewing the Division of Justice report on Friday, and you and I have been meeting weekly. Seems I’m being assimilated into the role.”</p><p>“Resistance is futile, my friend.”</p><p>Steve laughed. “A reference from a foreign series, from back in the last century? I’m shocked you understood that.”</p><p>“One might also question why you know it. The phrase was a fad years before you returned from the Arctic. Since then, you have obviously studied popular culture. I have also, because of my commitment to ending Wakanda’s isolation. It is important to understand the customs and traditions of our expanded world.”</p><p>“Sounds like another thing we have in common. On the advisor question, though: As dubious as I am about the value I can add, I’ll agree to it. Mainly because the job will make me feel at least somewhat useful, and it doesn’t involve violence. What’s needed to formalize my role? NDAs? A contract?”</p><p>“If it were up to me there would be no paperwork,” said T’Challa with a sigh. “However, Okoye encouraged me to allow Lele Mifune of Personnel to deploy his stack of forms and agreements. There are advantages to getting Steve Holden a job, residency papers, and an identity card.”</p><p>“Sure. How do we deal with biometrics, though? I’m reluctant to have mine on file as Holden in case there’s a data breach and someone runs a global match. My old records are out there. Applies to Nat too, of course.”</p><p>“Tumeli assures me this issue can be finessed using various workarounds—the security services have encountered the problem before,” T’Challa said.</p><p>“Your people are amazingly thorough.”</p><p>“They will make sure you are safely but fully documented. One advantage of becoming ‘legal’ is that you will no longer have to request cash from our guest fund. You can establish a bank account.”</p><p>“Not that I have anything to put into it.”</p><p>“You will soon. You and Natasha will be paid, of course.”</p><p>“To make us look like normal residents, that makes sense. But we should remit it all back to the palace as long as we’re living there,” Steve insisted.</p><p>“Nonsense. Your compensation will include room and board, as well as a clothing allowance, and you will receive salaries over and above that.”</p><p>“That’s far too generous.”</p><p>“Is this not comparable to your terms with the Avengers?” T’Challa asked.</p><p>“We put in long hard hours, and earned combat and hazard pay. The work you’ve described sounds like something between a vacation and a seminar. Hardly worth a salary at all.”</p><p>“I have approved similar packages for you and Natasha. On the books, you will be a WDG analyst, while your actual principal role will be as a counselor to me. You have not even asked the amount of the salaries.”</p><p>“Probably inflated. With how well taken care of we are here, I bet we could do with half of what’s been proposed.” The American was about to object further when T’Challa cut him off with the wave of a hand.</p><p>“Steve, stop. Please. All this amounts to a rounding error in our security budget. As of this moment, I am the king, so I have the final word. I say you are worth it.”</p><p>“All right,” he said, defeated. “I’ll take the path of least resistance and sign on the dotted line.”</p><p>“You drive a hard bargain, but in reverse gear, Mr. Holden.”</p><p>“Just want you to get your money’s worth.”</p><p>“I will be sure to. I have thought of another project, in fact. Having read the statement regarding Sgt. Wilson, I understand your reputation for inspirational speeches,” T’Challa said with a smile. “You could write them up for me. I like to study such oratory. An excellent skill for any leader to cultivate.”</p><p>“Oh, gosh, I don’t think they’re all that great,” Steve said, embarrassed. “Not sure I even remember exactly what I’ve said.”</p><p>“No doubt your partner could help you.”</p><p>“Maybe. There might be a couple of transcripts accessible from TAO records, if they survived the destruction of headquarters. Who knows whether they would sound any good in your language.”</p><p>“Perhaps you can translate them as part of your lessons. You seem to have made excellent progress in Wakandan already, judging by our little conversation earlier.”</p><p>“It’s very different from the languages I know, so it feels daunting, but N’Talia assures me that’s to be expected. I do have a good memory, which helps. I hope that in a couple of weeks we can have a more extensive conversation.”</p><p>“I look forward to it.” T’Challa stood and stretched from side to side. “You know, now that I have recovered, I find myself no longer annoyed with you for making me run all the way up here.”</p><p>“Keep in mind it’s more than thirty kilometers from this point to the palace. Though you probably have a way to call a ride.”</p><p>“My phone, which is continually tracked, is in my pack. If I activate the distress signal, a Dragon Flyer would be here within minutes.”</p><p>“Actually, I’m surprised you left the city without an entourage.”</p><p>“I am more capable of defending myself than most heads of state are, of course. It is true that the Royal Guard would normally send two or three operatives along if I left on foot, as a precaution. But they agreed with me that you would be more than adequate as a replacement.”</p><p>“Is bodyguard also part of my new job? Ass-kicking advisor and analyst?”</p><p>“Only on a voluntary basis. I assume if I were attacked you would come to my aid whether or not the function appears on your business card.”</p><p>“I might be persuaded to lend a hand if you didn’t want to keep all the fun for yourself. Well, before the watchers send out a rescue party, are you ready to start down the hill?”</p><p>“Certainly. I feel rather energized now, in fact.”</p><p>They set off walking, returning the way they had come. T’Challa said, “I would like to schedule tandem training such as this, as you suggested. Does your new commitment to nonviolence preclude your sparring, as well? I recall from previous experience that we are well matched.”</p><p>“It would be a privilege. I’ve got no objection to fighting for defensive or training purposes—I just don’t want it to be the purpose of my existence. Hey, tell you what: To make it more fun, when she is cleared for it Natasha and I should double-team you. She’s been itching for a good bout.”</p><p>“As long as she wields no weapons.”</p><p>“Ah, right. Definitely hand-to-hand only.”</p><p>“And only if we three are alone. I would be embarrassed in front of my aides and colleagues to be soundly defeated,” the king said with a smile.</p><p>“It’s far from clear that would happen. Maybe if you’re not wearing the habit.”</p><p>“We should try it. Perhaps ‘off campus’ at Joe’s Gym.”</p><p>“Joe’s Gym, really?” Steve almost stumbled in surprise. “That’s got to be the least Wakandan name possible.”</p><p>“I just now remembered the place. It is something of a Golden City institution. I was told by one of the Guards that the facility has an impressive array of modern strength training machines, which we do not have at the palace. Plus old-fashioned boxing gym equipment. We should reconnoitre it together.”</p><p>“Sounds good. I could use access to free weights and a punching bag myself.”</p><p>“Joe is well known as a character, though I have not met him,” said the king. “He is originally from the USA but has lived in Wakanda some fifty years.”</p><p>“I wonder how he managed that back when the country was off limits. Must be quite a story.”</p><p>“Indeed. Perhaps we will find out. It is too bad he cannot meet Rogers, but he will still enjoy Holden.” T’Challa chuckled.</p><p>“We expatriates should stick together, whatever our aliases,” said Steve. “So, are you warmed up again? Ready to see how fast we can make it home?”</p><p>T’Challa was pleased at his new advisor’s use of the word. “I am. Let’s go home.” He bolted down the road, leaving Steve flat-footed.</p><p>“Hey, no fair!” Steve called out, laughing, as he hustled to catch up.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0032"><h2>32. Her Story</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Natasha hears excellent news about her health and her brain. She and Okoye make a plan to get her story out into the world she left behind.</p>
<p>Rating: Teen and Up<br/>Content note: none</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Natasha lay comfortably on the scanning table in Shuri’s office suite in the palace. Dr. M’Gaji made a pass over her with her closed hand, which held a tiny device projecting a fan of bluish-white light. As the scan ended at the patient’s toes, the doctor turned up her hand and made a sweeping gesture. A full-length, life-size projection of Natasha appeared about a foot above her body.</p>
<p>Nat stared up into the hologram of her head. She had done so more than a dozen times since her return, here or in the infirmary at Design Group headquarters. It fascinated her to look into her own brain, outlined in three dimensions in light. The complex patterns were surprisingly beautiful. She didn’t have the training to interpret the structures and their importance, but Shuri and M’Gaji had been unfailingly informative. There were questions, however, she’d never had the nerve to ask.</p>
<p>M’Gaji flicked through a virtual control panel and launched a series of diagnostics. The doctor hummed as she watched the hologram flicker and change, analyzing the patient’s functional systems, one after another. If there were issues for the physician to review, a red glow appeared at the affected area. In previous scans, Natasha had seen very few of these, and all turned out to be minor and transient. Today, the hologram maintained the yellow, green, and pale orange colors that indicated proper functioning.</p>
<p>M’Gaji stopped humming and waved away the bright ghost, which winked immediately out of sight. She offered her tiny hand to Natasha to help her sit up.</p>
<p>“Well, Ms. Sheen, I surrender,” she said in Wakandan.</p>
<p>“Meaning?”</p>
<p>The frail-looking doctor shook her head. “I am extremely conservative about patients with injuries as extensive as yours were. Even so, I must give you a clean bill of health. After twenty-four days under my care, you stubbornly refuse to have anything wrong with you.”</p>
<p>“That’s fantastic.”</p>
<p>Though the news was positive, Natasha remained serious. If she were going to find out what she wanted to know, this was the time.</p>
<p>“I’m still curious about my brain. I’ve seen scans of it from fifteen years ago or so. A neurologist had marked up indications of damage. Caused by . . .behavior modification I underwent during my childhood and teen years. I understand that structural damage from the fall—actually, the landing—is gone. But what about the old developmental problems?”</p>
<p>M’Gaji could see that Nat was apprehensive. She spoke softly but clearly. “Your entire brain, from cerebellum to prefrontal lobes, from medulla to corpus callosum, is healthy and normal. It seems that, as with the gunshot scarring through your abdomen, the process that healed you from the fall erased the preexisting brain injuries you speak of.”</p>
<p>“Wow.” Natasha wasn’t sure how to express her wonder about this further miracle. “I’m grateful for that. And for all you’ve done.”</p>
<p>The doctor smiled crookedly. “You need not be grateful to me. My skills have contributed nothing to your recovery.”</p>
<p>“Not true. If you hadn’t insisted that I stay low-key, I would have overdone it. That’s just the way I am.”</p>
<p>“I appreciate your making me feel better. You were an admirably compliant patient. Now you are cleared to engage in whatever crazy things you normally do. Please don’t tell me about the more dangerous ones.”</p>
<p>“I’ll be dialed back from my old life quite a bit. And I aim to continue the healthy diet you prescribed. Definitely better than what I ate the past few years. Your diagnosis of peanut intolerance was a breakthrough.”</p>
<p>“Good. Be cautious with other nuts. Pay attention to your response to determine whether a particular kind is safe for you.”</p>
<p>“I assumed I had an ulcer or was just stressed out when I got stomach pain and nausea. Turns out that peanut butter sandwiches practically every day were a bad idea. Whoops.”</p>
<p>“You said you had a friend who expressed concern about your diet.”</p>
<p>“I did. Of course I didn’t listen to <i>that</i> guy. He never gets sick—what does he know?”</p>
<p>“Oh, him. I read that he was frequently ill as a boy.”</p>
<p>“Yeah. And his mother was a nurse. I absolutely should have given him more credit. Ah well, live and learn. Or live, and die, and learn some more.”</p>
<p>M’Gaji winced.</p>
<p>“I thought doctors had a morbid sense of humor as a coping mechanism,” Natasha said with a smirk.</p>
<p>“We do, but we aren’t used to sharing it with our patients. You mention Mr. Holden—it would be interesting to have him come in for a full diagnostic scan.”</p>
<p>“What for? He’s got no health complaints, of course. Do you want to try reverse-engineering the serum? No one’s ever been successful.”</p>
<p>“I would not wish to do so. I regard the process as ethically dubious. And the creation of super-soldiers is sociopolitically unwise. But our analysis may reveal details about how his body functions. Those could be clues to new therapies for injury and disease. We learned much from studying Sgt. Barnes and it would be fruitful to compare them.”</p>
<p>“Text him and set up a time. We’re grateful for all the help we’ve been given here and want to reciprocate however we can.”</p>
<p>“I will do so. As for you, I recommend a checkup every six weeks while you remain in Wakanda. A scan, nothing extensive. Of course if you have health concerns of any kind, whether or not they are related to your injury, feel free to come see me. Other than that, I will leave you be.”</p>
<p>“Maybe I’ll get sick so I can come say hello.”</p>
<p>Natasha stood just as Okoye poked her head around the open doorway. “Are we finished in here?” she asked.</p>
<p>“We are finished in more than one sense, General,” M’Gaji said. “I am firing this woman as a patient on the grounds of robust health.”</p>
<p>“Excellent,” Okoye said with a grin. “Now I can work her like a plow ox.”</p>
<p>Natasha put a hand to her forehead melodramatically. “Oh, wait, I’m feeling faint all of a sudden.”</p>
<p>The three chuckled. Patient and doctor exchanged simultaneous salutes, and Okoye led Nat out to the main concourse of the ninth level, the lowest of the secure floors of the palace.</p>
<p>“Where are we going?” asked the American. “I thought we were meeting with Shuri about projects.”</p>
<p>“She was called to WDG to sort out a fabrication problem. Instead, you and I could discuss Project Birthday.” She spoke the last two words in English.</p>
<p>Natasha was puzzled. “That’s a new one on me.”</p>
<p>“My designation for the effort to gain recognition for you. The name ‘Natalia’ is related to the birthday of Jesus, is it not?”</p>
<p>“You’re right. And your term can be understood as a reference to resurrection. Nice.”</p>
<p>Okoye looked pleased. “Let us meet in my office.”</p>
<p>A few minutes later they settled into simply fashioned chairs of smooth tan wood upholstered in glove leather, bathed in natural light from the floor-to-ceiling windows. Natasha was impressed with Okoye’s taste in decoration, more austere then the rest of the palace, as befitted a military woman. The most striking feature of the room was a series of perfectly lighted objects in niches along two bamboo-paneled walls: an ancient stone club head, a well-preserved atlatl of intricately carved wood, a 17th-century vibranium spear, and a fragment of a clay tablet incised with Ge’ez script.</p>
<p>“You have three weapons displayed—what’s the significance of the other artifact?” Nat asked.</p>
<p>“A list of laws,” Okoye said. “The weapons should be wielded only in service to the law.”</p>
<p>“The law can act as a weapon itself,” Natasha pointed out.</p>
<p>“True. A tension to keep in mind,” said the general.</p>
<p>“Do you have news on the TAO-and-me front?” Natasha asked, switching to English, which seemed appropriate to the topic. “I assume if they’d released a statement Tumeli would’ve told me. Did you put out feelers about the situation?”</p>
<p>“I have spoken with Sharon Carter and James Barnes. Ms. Carter was not privy to any discussions of further announcements. She said staff are directed to acknowledge only that you perished in the line of duty, disclosing no details.”</p>
<p>“Has anyone actually asked them about me?”</p>
<p>“Numerous news outlets have. Most people assumed immediately after the battle that you had died during it. Since then, journalists have made inquiries; no participant has mentioned you were there. It has been noted that you appear in none of the photos. TAO has put off the media with claims that next of kin are still being sought.”</p>
<p>“Uh-huh,” Natasha said in a sarcastic tone. “They know I don’t have any.”</p>
<p>“Carter sounded rather stressed,” Okoye said with delicacy. “As you predicted, memorializing the dead is not high on her priority list.”</p>
<p>“And there are no family members to move forward with arrangements, like Pepper and Happy did.”</p>
<p>“I would think the closest such person in the US would be Clint Barton. You spoke with him?”</p>
<p>“Yes, last week, thanks to Desta’s people. He said some of the team had discussed a memorial but they had no firm plans. I told him it wasn’t something I felt strongly about.”</p>
<p>“Why doesn’t <i>he</i>?” Okoye asked, annoyed.</p>
<p>“He’d rather avoid the whole thing because he feels guilty on a couple of levels, I think. He doesn’t want to confront that in front of others. And partly it’s just the attitude of people like him, and me. In the espionage biz, we’re used to having colleagues disappear and you never find out what happened. Sometimes you’re not supposed to acknowledge they’re gone, let alone seek a public to-do.”</p>
<p>“Different from the military mindset of medals and decorated graves.”</p>
<p>“Exactly. What did you find out from Bucky?” Natasha asked.</p>
<p>“He said he and Sgt. Wilson had not yet been consulted, but Dr. Banner and Col. Rhodes had spoken with Barton on the topic. Shuri said Rhodes and Banner had been tight-lipped when she spoke to them; they gave vague assurances about ‘some form’ of recognition. She urged them to proceed and offered to assist, and I did the same with my contacts.”</p>
<p>“Why wouldn’t Bruce and Rhodey read Sam in? He’s the most prominent active Avenger, supposedly the team leader, and he and I are good friends. Were.”</p>
<p>Okoye shrugged. “Probably due to the organizational issues previously discussed,” she said with a disdainful expression. “Balls, as you say in America, are being dropped. For example, the advisory council members haven’t been provided with secure, direct contact information for the other members. A basic courtesy.”</p>
<p>“You have that already, don’t you?”</p>
<p>“Of course, but for some our knowledge is unofficial. It would be awkward to use it without authorization.”</p>
<p>Natasha pondered, narrowing her eyes. “They must have some reason to sideline Sam. I can’t imagine it’s merely an oversight.”</p>
<p>“Barnes did not like to admit it, but he gave me the impression it is because of the poor reaction to Wilson’s appointment,” said Okoye.</p>
<p>“If they’re reluctant for him to be quoted in an announcement, or to play a lead role in a memorial event, I can understand. But why exclude him from the planning? Steve and I spent over a year underground with him. I’d say Sam knows me better than Bruce does, and I dated Bruce.”</p>
<p>“Maybe that has something to do with it.”</p>
<p>“Oh, Christ. Boys,” Natasha spat out. “Some boys, anyway.”</p>
<p>“If we can get past TAO’s personal and organizational issues, what I would like to see is an event as substantial and distinguished as the memorial for Mr. Stark. Before the world turns its attention away from the events around the Blip.” Okoye spoke with conviction.</p>
<p>“Not going to happen, sister,” Natasha said, shaking her head. “What Tony did was a proximate cause of saving the world—and the universe. An obviously big deal. Obtaining one Infinity Stone was a few steps removed. Necessary but just part of the operation. And with only a single witness to confirm I died for it.”</p>
<p>“Two, actually.”</p>
<p>“Only one available to testify.”</p>
<p>“True.” Okoye sighed. “It is indeed unlikely we can arrange your memorial so it becomes as important as Stark’s. For one thing, not all the individuals who attended would be available. It is frustrating, because an event that drew government officials and, frankly, celebrities would bring attention to the message about your heroism.”</p>
<p>“Maybe it’s just an awkward time.”</p>
<p>“Too long after the Return?”</p>
<p>“Or not long enough.” Natasha leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms, thinking. “How about this: Get TAO to issue a statement soon, answering the questions about me that are out there. Take advantage of that curiosity. Include the story of what happened on Vormir and the consequences. Then post an online memorial, go to town with hype on social media, buy ads if you want. Wait on an event until the Blip anniversary next year. There’ll be major commemorations with bigwigs on hand. So TAO, and whoever, can piggyback on their presence and do a thing for me too.”</p>
<p>Okoye stared at Natasha with a blank expression, a bit stunned. She suddenly smiled widely.</p>
<p>“Leave it to you to come up with a solution for your own memorial. I think that would be the best we could hope for.”</p>
<p>Nat nodded. “You know, when you pitch this to Rhodey, you could send a suggested announcement. If you make it easy for them they’re more likely to do it.”</p>
<p>“Such writing is not my forte, unfortunately.”</p>
<p>“I can take a crack at it. I’m about to be on the payroll anyway.”</p>
<p>“Write your own obituary and tribute?”</p>
<p>“Better than letting TAO screw it up. I’ll do the obit part, and the Vormir narrative about the stone. I’ll get help on the eulogy bits. I know someone who’s good at emotional prose, and he likes me.” Natasha smiled at the idea.</p>
<p>“Will it not appear suspicious that Wakanda possesses details we should have no way of knowing?” Okoye asked.</p>
<p>“Call Clint and get him to tell you his story. You can officially unofficially get his number from Bucky. It will be interesting to hear his version, for sure. I’ll work with what he remembers. Anything in the biographical part of the announcement that isn’t common knowledge will be assumed to be from the War Dogs.” Natasha thought a moment. “Hell, I should ask to read their file on me—there may be stuff <i>I</i> don’t know about.”</p>
<p>“Both are good ideas. You may be correct about your dossier. Mutombo will be glad to assist you.”</p>
<p>“She seems to be coming around on me and Steve.”</p>
<p>“I knew she would. She is a skeptic, but not militantly so. And she is a lot of fun if she drinks a few glasses of palm wine,” Okoye said with a smirk. “I would like to discover what happens if you do the same.”</p>
<p>“Find me a bottle of Beluga Noble and you’ll find out. But only if you drink with us.”</p>
<p>“I will set myself the task of obtaining our favorite liquors and we shall see.”</p>
<p>“As long as surveillance cameras are off for the evening,” Natasha warned.</p>
<p>Okoye’s eyes opened wider as that sparked an idea. “I should direct the War Dogs to gather images of you. Publicly available and otherwise. You would curate them and they could be sent out as a digital package with the announcement. And become part of your online memorial.”</p>
<p>“If Wakanda is willing to send highly trained agents snuffling through databases and the dark corners of the internet looking for pictures of a woman who is no longer of any consequence, I’m willing to review what they find,” Nat said with raised eyebrow.</p>
<p>“It is your consequence that we intend to highlight, and the awareness of it we want to strengthen. To ensure that your image is ingrained in history, and in memory.”</p>
<p>“It seems like you have a certain audience in mind. Surely it’s not stuffy old white guys writing history books. They’d be a tough sell, I would think.”</p>
<p>“I would like to reach young people, especially girls,” Okoye affirmed. “And young scholars of any type, anywhere, who want to fully understand the events that profoundly affected the world.”</p>
<p>“Your people can locate up-and-coming academics working on that history. The thousand amazing things that happened between the moment Scott showed up at HQ in a ratty old van and the end of the final battle. Target those people—send them the package, don’t just hope they’ll find it in their research.”</p>
<p>“Every country will have its own perspective, and the ones most involved will have multiples. No doubt there will be hundreds of scholarly papers and dozens of books.”</p>
<p>Natasha turned her imagination from a tribute website to what a book about her might look like. In her mind’s eye she saw a dust jacket with a particular image. She knew immediately it was how she’d like to be remembered. It would be an extremely difficult picture to obtain, especially compared to what was freely available. Why did she have to always do things the hard way?</p>
<p>In her former apartment at the Avengers compound she’d had a sketch of herself, seated, that Steve had done. It was during the year after the Snap, and as therapy he had sketched friends and comrades that had turned to dust. Then he’d done a series of drawings of the ones who had survived. She’d been charmed by the charcoal portrait of herself and had asked for it. He’d been reluctant, saying it wasn’t good enough, but she’d insisted, and further insisted that he sign it. It was sure to have been torched, or crushed, or torched and then crushed in the destruction of the building. But Steve had implied that he’d made other drawings of her over the years, and those might still be in his Brooklyn apartment, or wherever someone had stored his belongings since his disappearance.</p>
<p>Nat told Okoye the story and asked whether a Wakandan operative might be able to locate and swipe the sketches.</p>
<p>“Under no circumstances will I send an agent on such a chase of wild geese,” the general said sternly.</p>
<p>Natasha was a little taken aback. Previously, Okoye had been unfailingly accommodating, though granted this caper might be asking a little much.</p>
<p>“Natasha, just ask him to draw you again,” Okoye said with a half-smile. “He is right here.”</p>
<p>“Oh. Yeah. That would be a bit easier, wouldn’t it?”</p>
<p>“It would make a good central image around which to gather your history. Especially if he signs it. The artwork itself will present its own story. Two, really—one that can be told, and one known only to a few.”</p>
<p>“Story of my life. Or lives.”</p>
<p>“In the future, I hope you write that story in full,” Okoye said earnestly. “Your autobiography should be preserved for posterity. Have you heard the adage ‘Well-behaved women seldom make history’?”</p>
<p>Natasha laughed out loud. “Somebody gets me. But I don’t think anyone would believe my whole story, especially if I don’t have it published until after my next death.”</p>
<p>“Perhaps someday you will no longer wish to stay in hiding, and will speak freely.”</p>
<p>“That may depend on how well behaved I am over the rest of my life,” Nat said with a sly grin.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0033"><h2>33. Meanwhile, Back at the Ranch</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Sam and Bucky run one of their first operations together, then discover letters from Steve.</p><p>Rating: Mature<br/>Content note: description of physical injury; profanity including several F bombs</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Sam Wilson landed the Quinjet in a field about a mile from their target building. The aircraft was hidden from the nearby road by a copse of conifers. On the flight into Canada from temporary Avengers HQ, he and Bucky Barnes had discussed the intel and the best tactics for capturing Sarkis. The arms dealer and four associates were holed up in a warehouse in the rural outskirts of St. John’s, Newfoundland. As the jet settled down and the sun rose over the North Atlantic, it was time to execute their plan.</p><p>Right after they finished arguing about it.</p><p>“I’ll go in with no firearms showing,” Sam said. “Talk big about how the Avengers are outside and they better give up if they want to make it out alive. There’s only five of them; they’ll see reason.”</p><p>“Why risk it?” Bucky asked, exasperated. “We can walk in and take care of the problem once and for all. I read their files; every one of those murdering sonsabitches deserves to die.”</p><p>“Dude, again—it’s not a war. We can’t shoot ‘em unless they shoot first. And anyhow we want them alive so they can turn state’s evidence. We can roll up terrorist cells and other rogue dealers with what they know.”</p><p>“OK. I got it,” Bucky said grudgingly.</p><p>“Tell you what. If they don’t stand down, they’ll make a break for it. You can pick ‘em off outside the warehouse.” Before wheels up, they’d stopped by the locker and picked up Sam’s wings and a prudent array of firearms, including Buck’s favorite sniper rifle.</p><p>“Hell no. I should go in with you. I can fade into the background at first if you want. You’ll need help when they ignore your offer and come out hot.”</p><p>“Hey, I’m getting pretty good with the shield.”</p><p>“Not good enough to incapacitate five armed thugs by yourself, at least not without covering fire. You should be carrying concealed, at least.”</p><p>“All right. I’ll take a gun, and you. But I’ll give ‘em a chance to surrender before opening a can of whoopass.” He saluted facetiously. “It’s what Steve would do.”</p><p>Bucky frowned. “Yeah, right. Against scum like this, Steve wasn’t a fucking Boy Scout,” Bucky said.</p><p>“Don’t say ‘was,’ man. He’s not dead, y’know.”</p><p>“Might as well be. He ain’t coming back.”</p><p>“So it’s up to us to take care of shit like this. Leo Sarkis is our mission, this case is my baby, and I want him alive.”</p><p>“Aye aye, Captain.” Bucky’s tone was humorous, but only slightly. In truth, he was relieved to have a good officer to follow. He still sometimes felt unstable, especially since returning after the Blip. The world, and many of his friends, had profoundly changed, again. And his chief anchor in that world had not only changed, but bailed out.</p><p>“You winging in?” he asked.</p><p>“Yup. I’ll glide from a quarter mile out. You ready for a ride?”</p><p>“Nah, the road looked pretty deserted. I’ll go on foot.”</p><p>“I’ll wait to engage till you get there.”</p><p>“It’s like a mile. It’ll take me maybe two minutes. I might even beat you.”</p><p>“Right.”</p><p>Bucky slung his rifle across his back and strapped a gunbelt over his blue tactical suit. Sam hid a magnetized pistol on the reverse of his shield and put on the wing apparatus. He wore an almost identical suit.</p><p>Three minutes later Sam landed next to his partner in the empty gravel parking lot of a weathered gray building. As his wings retracted, he said quietly, “Two vehicles out back. Infrared showed eight hots in an room along the east side of the warehouse. No one in the main bay.”</p><p>“There were supposed to be five.”</p><p>“I guess they brought friends. We still deploy like we talked about.”</p><p>Bucky nodded and approached the front door. He removed an automatic lockpick gadget from his belt and applied it to the keyhole. After some whirring and clicking, the bolt slid open and they entered quickly. An interior room built in the warehouse lay about fifteen meters ahead. Keeping near the walls, Sam silently made his way to its door while Bucky went the opposite way to get behind the occupied room.</p><p>When Bucky was in position, Sam shouted, “Sarkis! You’re surrounded. All of you come out this door with hands up and it doesn’t have to get ugly.”</p><p>“What you say?” a voice yelled back. “No speak English.”</p><p>“Bullshit. I know you do. Open the door.”</p><p>“Who says?”</p><p>“Sam Wilson, Avengers Organization.”</p><p>The inner door opened several inches. A grizzled, stocky white man in a maroon track suit looked out, staying behind the metal door. His eyes lingered on the shield Sam held in front of his body. Sarkis smirked. “Ah, is Captain Africa. You think you can take us by yourself?”</p><p>Sam didn’t react to the attempted diss. “Got friends outside waiting on your decision. If there’s a ruckus, it won’t go well for you gentlemen.”</p><p>“You are idiot to warn us.”</p><p>“Giving you an opportunity to surrender. You got no chance against us, heads up or no.”</p><p>“I would be idiot to give up. To rot in cell, or waterboarded in black site?”</p><p>“You have testimony of value. Your boys too—they could trade for plea bargains,” Sam said, making sure his voice carried. “We got witness protection programs. Or, you all die in a hail of bullets and skullcrushing if you fight this out. Up to you.”</p><p>Sarkis’s face lost its smirk and he looked down at the floor. “You wait. We talk.” He shut the door.</p><p>In the shadows, Bucky had dragged a pallet stacked with heavy wooden crates to block the back door of the warehouse. The windows were set too high in the walls to be of use to any normal person. As he heard Sarkis withdraw into the inner room, Buck moved closer to the back side of it, where there was another door. He held it closed with his artificial arm. As if on cue, the knob turned and the door rattled. A voice cursed in Ukrainian and said, “This door wasn’t locked!”</p><p>Then hell broke loose on Sam’s side. A henchman flung the door open and charged out firing an AK-47, closely followed by a pistol-packing comrade. Sam ducked behind the shield and bolted for cover behind the nearest stack of crates as bullets flattened against the vibranium. He grabbed his Glock from inside the shield and swapped hands. Calculating angles quickly, he stood and flung the shield at the first attacker. It struck him in the chest and he went down. The shield ricocheted and hit the second man in the head, knocking him cold before clattering to the floor.</p><p>Bucky took advantage of the element of surprise and burst through the back door of the inner room, a Beretta at the ready. Three men up against the back wall threw up their hands immediately. “We give up!” one yelled. “No shoot!”</p><p>Sarkis and the tallest of his gang huddled next to the other door. The second man swung an AK toward Bucky, who shot him in the shoulder, producing a scream and a dropped rifle. Sarkis was holding a Makarov but it was pointed at the floor. He seemed undecided about what to do.</p><p>“Weapons on the table,” Bucky ordered in Russian. The three men against the wall promptly complied, tossing three pistols and a rifle onto a table in the middle of the room.</p><p>Sarkis continued to hesitate. The American lost patience, leaped across the space in the blink of an eye, ripped the Makarov out of Sarkis’s hand and threw him into a corner.</p><p>Out front, Sam traded fire with the last of the group still standing and armed, barricaded behind a forklift. He hadn’t been able to leave cover long enough to retrieve the shield, but finally got a chance when the thug stopped to reload. Charging out, Sam scooped up the shield and ran straight at the bearded gunman, who began to empty his clip again, futilely against the nearly indestructible metal. A side kick dislodged the foreigner from the forklift and a clanging thump on the head put him on the ground.</p><p>Bucky appeared in the front doorway of the inner room, keeping an eye on the prisoners. “Five in here—three surrendered, two injured.”</p><p>“I got three injured out here, so that’s all of them. You didn’t kill anybody?”</p><p>“I was good. Everybody’s breathing and not bleeding too hard.”</p><p>“Congratulations. Let’s zip tie ‘em and load out. I’d rather be gone before any cops show up. These scumbags aren’t officially here, let’s make them unofficially not here.”</p><p>In twenty minutes the eight prisoners were in the Quinjet headed for FBI HQ in DC. Bucky had surprised Sam by volunteering to fly Sarkis’s G650 back to the US. It might contain evidence the Feds would love to get their hands on immediately rather than having to request it from Canadian authorities. He hadn’t even known Barnes was a pilot; Bucky had tersely informed him that he’d been occasionally reactivated for training as well as missions.</p><p>Sam put the jet on autopilot and tended to the wounded. As worked on the tall man’s shoulder, Sarkis lay bound on the floor regarding him balefully. His nose was bloody, one eye was bruising badly and he’d complained of broken ribs.</p><p>“You lied. You had no backup,” Sarkis growled.</p><p>“Of course not. They gonna send a whole squad of superheroes for eight dipshits? You flatter yourself. I only brought Barnes to help keep me awake.”</p><p>“You look forward to the cameras when we land. They see you bring home trophies,” he sneered.</p><p>“Nah. Some of your guys might want to cut a deal and get relocated. Not gonna screw that up by disclosing faces.”</p><p>“What?” Sarkis said in mock horror. “How you convince people you are no phony? You should show on TV you caught dangerous criminals.”</p><p>“You are so goddamn stupid,” Sam said, tying off the bandage. “Why you busting my chops when you’re tied up in my plane and I could kick your ass worse than he already did? Ain’t nobody gonna question your condition when I bring you in, and they don’t care what these guys say about it either.”</p><p>“Then why don’t you?” Sarkis demanded.</p><p>“Because it wouldn’t be right, asshole.”</p><p>“Oh, Captain America must uphold truth and justice?” Sarkis mocked.</p><p>Sam stared at him a few seconds. “Fuckin’ A.”</p><p>* * *</p><p>Four hours later, Sam trotted down a flight of stairs into a windowless basement office. The bare fluorescent tubes on the low ceiling were insufficient but he hadn’t requested replacements. The dim glow was better for viewing the five huge, expensive computer monitors that sat on cheap government surplus desks. Rhodey had offered him a corner office on an upper floor of the rented building that constituted TAO temporary headquarters, but he’d declined.</p><p>Bucky looked up from his keyboard where he was hunting and pecking. “We got mail?” he asked.</p><p>“Finally. Been piling up,” Sam said, shuffling the sheaf in his hand. “The delivery people didn’t realize we were down here. Thought it was still storage.”</p><p>“Kinda still looks like it.”</p><p>“Hey, don’t knock it. We got the biggest office in the joint, and quietest.”</p><p>“Not too impressive for visitors, I gotta say.”</p><p>“We don’t need a place to impress people. I’ll go out if I want to talk to them. Better management style anyhow. And we’ll be in the field a lot, like this morning’s little adventure. If I’m in here, I’m working in databases or whatever. Don’t care what the view is like.”</p><p>“Rhodey thinks you’re nuts.”</p><p>“Yeah, well, whatever. He can have a chichi office if he wants. Steve’s was a desk out in the open. This is fancy enough for me.”</p><p>He and Bucky had changed into T-shirts and jeans. Their tac suits dangled from hangers hooked over an overhead gas pipe. The suits were high-tech but plain; the eventual design of their uniforms was still a subject of debate. Sam’s shield was back in its place of honor on a wall next to the stairs that both men’s desks faced. An LED was rigged to glint off its colorful curved surface, barely scratched after taking dozens of rounds.</p><p>“You working on the debriefing report?” Sam asked.</p><p>“Almost finished. I better learn to type or paperwork is gonna eat my lunch.”</p><p>“This is dumb. We should have a clerk to write up debriefs.”</p><p>Bucky shrugged. “File a complaint. For now, we gotta do our own.”</p><p>“You could use speech-to-text, at least. I’ll show you how tomorrow.”</p><p>“How long has Sarkis been on Avengers radar?” Bucky asked, fingers hovering over the keys.</p><p>“Not sure when he went on the organization’s books. But we were tracking this dickhead back in 2017.”</p><p>“‘We’ as in you and Steve and Natasha?”</p><p>“Right. Unfortunately Sarkis didn’t Snap out. He kept right on going, even deeper underground, for five years. I asked Steve about it, the week after the funeral. He said Natasha lost the thread after the Snap, didn’t get a lead on him again until a couple months before the Blip. I found her notes in the database. Fortunately she was good about documentation. Said you never know when your number might be up and anything you just carry in your head is lost.”</p><p>“OK, last question for the report. Did we have the right assets in place for this operation—people, transport, equipment, intel?”</p><p>“I’d say so. Rhodey wanted to send Wanda with us as backup, but I insisted she stay here, and that was the right call. We handled it.”</p><p>“Wanda’s ready to deploy, don’t you think?” Bucky asked. “All of us who got Blipped back are still getting our bearings, but she’s a tough kid.”</p><p>“She’s keeping her chin up, but she’s in grief for Vision, you gotta remember. To her, he died a few weeks ago—hell, she had to kill him and then watch him get murdered a second time. She needs space. I feel like she’ll do what’s needed <i>if</i> needed. That’s why I wanted her to stay here. In case something serious happened while we were gone, ‘cause she’s the biggest badass we have active right now.”</p><p>Bucky finished typing a sentence. “I’ll fix this up and send to you. Anything interesting from the inbox?”</p><p>Sam sorted papers from the stack, tossing them into a plastic wastebasket or onto his desk. “Not much. More forms from HR, two memos from the co-directors—I guess they think we’ll read printouts better than email. Bunch of junk mail. How the hell do we already get junk mail? We just got this job.”</p><p>“Captain America is probably on a lot of mailing lists.”</p><p>Sam got to the bottom of the stack and examined the last two envelopes. They were nearly identical, one addressed to him and one to James B. Barnes, no return address. They were dirty, and it looked as though they’d been stepped on at the same time—a shoeprint spanned both envelopes. The dirt marks implied there had been another piece of mail on top of them.</p><p>“Letter for you,” Sam said, spinning it edgewise over to his partner, who caught it.</p><p>“You <i>are</i> getting good at that,” Bucky said with a smirk, which left his face as soon as he looked at the envelope.</p><p>“What?” asked Sam.</p><p>“This is Steve’s handwriting.”</p><p>“I thought it looked kinda familiar.” Sam sat down and reached for a letter opener. Bucky tore his open barehanded. Each withdrew a single sheet of paper covered with neat cursive.</p><p>“Dated November first,” Sam noted.</p><p>“Mine too,” Bucky said tersely.</p><p>The two men quietly read their letters. Sam finished and laid his aside carefully, his face somber and tense. Bucky took a little longer; his lexical processing was still recovering from the insults to his brain over decades. He folded the paper and put it back in its envelope. His jaw was set and he kept his eyes cast down.</p><p>“Kinda rough,” Sam said. “Hit me in the feels.” He hoped to give Buck encouragement to be open about his emotion.</p><p>“Yeah. Mine’s mostly about why he left. He apologizes for not being there for me in the future. Like it was an obligation.”</p><p>“Mine talks about how he was completely over doing this job anymore, and why he wanted me, or us really, to take his place.” He picked up the letter, stood and proffered it to Bucky, leaning over the desk. “You can read it if you want. It’s OK if you don’t want me to read yours.”</p><p>Bucky took the letter, and after a moment of consideration passed over the one addressed to him. “Might as well.”</p><p>They sat and read again, and this time Sam had to wipe a tear from his eye. “Funny. My letter says I’m supposed to take care of you, and yours says you’re supposed to take care of me.”</p><p>“He figured that would work out better than telling us to take care of ourselves.”</p><p>“Probably. I’m struck by how miserable he thinks he would have been if he’d stayed. He knew that wouldn’t have been helpful to you.”</p><p>“I’m struck by how he doesn’t talk about Peggy in either one, doesn’t say how happy he was hoping to be,” Bucky mused. “Like he was running away from here more than he was running <i>to</i> anything.”</p><p>“Must have worked out though, since he stayed there for seventy-some years. He coulda returned, or at least stuck around when he did come back.”</p><p>“I guess. I had my doubts when he was telling me what he was going to do, but he seemed so sure about it that I didn’t say anything. There were a lot of problems I could imagine, but I assumed he’d thought of everything. He usually does.”</p><p>“At least now I know where he got the shield. Everybody’s been wondering.”</p><p>“It’d be nice to know more. He just says Wakanda, not when it was made or why.”</p><p>“I think there’s another letter,” Sam said. “Probably to the team or the organization. I’ll ask Sharon if they got something upstairs.”</p><p>Buck shook his head. “Could be. But I suppose there’ll always be some mystery around the whole situation.”</p><p>Sam looked at him squarely. “More than that. I feel like there’s a hole in this somewhere. Just doesn’t feel quite real.”</p><p>“I know what you mean. Something off. But you know, it’s probably that we don’t want it to be real. Wishful thinking that he’s not actually gone, at least not like that.”</p><p>“I wonder if your unit felt same way when he went down with the plane.”</p><p>“Dunno, they were all gone by the time I . . . came back.” Bucky paused a moment, thinking. “Steve did tell me that our crew was kind of rattled after I fell. It was so sudden, and then there was no body, like for closure or whatever you guys call it.”</p><p>“Well, it turned out that you weren’t actually dead and it was a totally bizarre situation no one could have imagined. Doesn’t make me feel any better about now. Like maybe there’s something we’re missing, again.”</p><p>“He felt responsible, you know. That he couldn’t save me, and he didn’t go find me.”</p><p>“Motherfucker feels responsible for everything, seems like.”</p><p>“Sometimes it’s true. The man was capable of screwing up. I think people forget that, lately.”</p><p>“Tell me about it. As if it weren’t hard enough following his act, now he’s retconned into being practically infallible. Ain’t nobody can measure up, very much including me.”</p><p>“It’ll get better. You’ll do good stuff. And people will forget.”</p><p>“Not us, though.”</p><p>They fell silent, and remembered.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0034"><h2>34. Drawing Close</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Okoye lays down the law to Rhodey. Items salvaged from the wreck of Avengers HQ spark Steve and Natasha to tackle an issue they’d overlooked: what’s going to happen to their stuff now that they’re “dead” and “gone”? </p>
<p>Rating: Teen and Up<br/>Content note: none</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“What do you want me to wear?” Natasha asked from the doorway of her walk-in closet. Motion-sensitive LEDs flicked on to illuminate twin racks of clothing.</p>
<p>“I’m afraid that’s the wrong question,” Steve answered, standing behind her. “What I’d like to see you in and what would be appropriate for the drawing are entirely different things.”</p>
<p>She looked saucily over her shoulder at him, and he grinned.</p>
<p>“Fine. What do you think I should wear for a portrait that may be seen by millions of people?”</p>
<p>“Do you want to be shown as an operative, or in something reflecting personal style?”</p>
<p>“A tac suit would make sense. Basically, what I was wearing when I did the thing I’m being remembered for. But I’m sure mine was discarded. It had to be pretty nasty.”</p>
<p>“I thought Shuri said they made you a new one.”</p>
<p>Nat went into the closet and rifled through the hanging racks. In the very back in the shadows was a brand-new black suit like the one she’d worn during their underground days. “You’re right—they must have brought it in with the laundry at some point and I didn’t notice.” She held it up for contemplation. “I’m on the fence. What do you think?”</p>
<p>“It would make for a striking portrait. Then again, anything with you in it would be striking. But . . .” He broke off with a look of concern.</p>
<p>“Too much black overwhelming my face?”</p>
<p>“I could make the suit grey. Still . . .”</p>
<p>“Too Black Widowy?”</p>
<p>“I guess that’s what gives me pause. With the memorial site, Okoye wants to send a message especially to girls and young women. What do you want to be the first image of you that they see?”</p>
<p>“An Avenger, or a regular person?”</p>
<p>“I can see arguments for both, but it’s up to you. I’m just the sketch monkey.”</p>
<p>“I’ll go with regular person. In the drawing I was remembering, the one I had in my bedroom, I was wearing a fitted tee and jeans. Maybe for this one, I’ll go with something less casual. Could I get away with one of these beautiful Wakandan shifts?” she asked, pulling out two and holding them up.</p>
<p>“Sure. This drawing will be ‘found’ here, so I could have made it in maybe 2017 with you wearing a local purchase. I’d go with the simpler yellow one rather than the batik—you don’t want the pattern to distract.”</p>
<p>“OK, I’ll change.”</p>
<p>Steve, leaning against the doorjamb with his arms crossed and a faint smile, didn’t move. “Don’t mind me,” he said breezily. “Let me know if you need any help.”</p>
<p>Natasha rolled her eyes and shooed him out with a wave of her hand.</p>
<p>He sighed dramatically. “It was worth a shot.”</p>
<p>She laughed. “Patience, my dear.”</p>
<p>Steve headed back into the living room as someone knocked at the front door. He answered and invited Okoye inside, explaining Natasha’s absence. “Please have a seat—she’ll be out in a minute. I’ll go back to my apartment so you can speak privately.”</p>
<p>“Please do not leave on my account, Steve. Our conversation will interest you, I believe. I spoke with Clint Barton yesterday evening.”</p>
<p>Nat emerged as Okoye finished her sentence. “Hello, Okoye. He told you his Vormir story?”</p>
<p>“Good afternoon, Natasha. Yes, he did. It matches well with what you have written.”</p>
<p>“What did he think about the plan for the memorials?”</p>
<p>“He approved. However, it was necessary to push him about making a video for the online version. Once I explained the importance of his testimony as the sole witness, he relented. He realized that would be easier than appearing at a news conference or live service. I also determined that his discussion with the Avengers directors on the subject was inconclusive. They know they should do something, but also wish to lie low after their embarrassing media event.”</p>
<p>Steve asked, “How did Clint do with pretending Natasha’s dead?”</p>
<p>“Quite well.” She smiled slyly. “He did probe a little to gauge whether <i>I</i> believed she was dead. I think he suspects she is here, but he was subtle.”</p>
<p>“Dammit, I was careful when talking to him, and I know the tech was well scrubbed,” exclaimed Nat.</p>
<p>“I’d guess it’s got nothing to do with clues from the call,” Steve said. “More like what T’Challa pointed out the day I arrived: This was the best place for us to go in our situation. Clint can figure that out.”</p>
<p>“He affirmed that he would vocally support the memorial plan after I introduce it—I believe you say, ‘pitch it’—to Rhodes,” Okoye continued. “He advised me to approach the colonel first, rather than Dr. Banner, for both administrative and personal reasons. I plan to call him today. It is just after eight there and I understand he arrives at headquarters promptly at that time.”</p>
<p>“I’d love to listen in. Can you do it from here?” Natasha asked eagerly.</p>
<p>“I do not see why not. It will be a videoconference, but you can stay out of shot and endeavor not to heckle, or laugh,” Okoye said with the faintest of smiles. “Of course, we will have to see whether he will take my call.”</p>
<p>“I can’t imagine Rhodey would blow you off,” Nat said. “He spoke to Shuri recently, so he has to know Wakanda is not particularly happy with TAO right now. And he’s probably afraid of you, anyway.”</p>
<p>Okoye smiled serenely. “That is likely.” She took out her phone and set up the call while Steve and Natasha rearranged themselves.</p>
<p>Once the connection with Rhodes was established, Okoye launched the holographic function and his simulacrum appeared above the phone as it rested on a table. The quality of the image was remarkably good, with only the faintest waver and translucence.</p>
<p>After a few brief pleasantries, Okoye—sans smile—described the idea for Natasha’s commemorative website, to be built by Wakandan designers. She also offered to spearhead a memorial event to be held the next October. Rhodey was cautiously positive toward both initiatives.</p>
<p>“We advocate strongly, however, that TAO put forth an announcement as soon as possible,” Okoye said firmly. “It should make clear the circumstances of Ms. Romanov’s death and the critical importance of her sacrifice. It is unacceptable that confusion still reigns concerning these matters in the media and public.”</p>
<p>“I certainly understand your concern, and I feel terrible that this has gone on so long,” Rhodey said. “The chaotic situation here hasn’t helped, and we have no in-house media relations people.”</p>
<p>“It is my recollection that the Avengers had a longstanding arrangement with an outside company.”</p>
<p>“Uh, well, we used to. That group is no longer available, so we’d have to vet a whole new firm and that’s just been out of range for us.”</p>
<p>Natasha and Steve, sitting on the bench, looked sidelong at each other. She mouthed, “He pissed them off.” Steve nodded.</p>
<p>“Anticipating your staffing shortfall, we have written a draft of the announcement,” Okoye informed Rhodey. “And put together a package of images and video to accompany it. I will forward this to you after this call, if you wish.”</p>
<p>“Oh.” He sounded puzzled. “That’s very kind.”</p>
<p>“You should remember, Col. Rhodes, that maintaining communication with your advisory council is worthwhile for a host of reasons, not least of which is that each member has skills and contributions that can extend those of the core organization. Some of us have great assets at our disposal. We stand ready not only to advise but to assist in endeavors that are in the best interest of international security and the world community.”</p>
<p>“I appreciate that suggestion, General. I will take it very seriously. In the meantime, I wholeheartedly accept your offer of a draft package concerning Natasha, to expedite getting the word out. I recognize that we haven’t done right by her. I know I speak for Dr. Banner and Ms. Carter as well when I say we are committed to doing better.”</p>
<p>Natasha mouthed to Okoye, “Tell him to ask Sam.”</p>
<p>“Colonel, I have another suggestion. You have not mentioned consulting Captain Wilson about how to remember Natasha. I think it would be appropriate to do so, considering their friendship and his current role.”</p>
<p>“Yeah, you’re probably right. It’s been tough because all the obvious point people that I would delegate to, for something concerning Nat, are extremely busy or not readily available. Sam has his own situation to deal with, Clint’s retired and halfway across the country, Bruce has been tied up with negotiations about the time travel tech. And Steve—well, he jumped ship.”</p>
<p>Steve winced, and Natasha patted his knee in reassurance.</p>
<p>Rhodey continued. “Speaking of that, I haven’t had a chance to tell the advisors yet, but yesterday we received a letter that Cap mailed before he left. Apparently got lost for awhile, along with two others sent here.”</p>
<p>“Very interesting,” Okoye said neutrally. “To whom was it addressed?”</p>
<p>“To the organization. It’s an open letter about his reasoning. Says specifically that we can use any of it in public statements. Sure wish we’d had it three weeks ago.”</p>
<p>“Will you circulate the contents to the council immediately?”</p>
<p>“I was going to hold it for an end-of-year summary—”</p>
<p>“Colonel, surely it cannot be that long a message,” Okoye said with exasperation. “I would certainly like to see what he had to say. The compromised launch of Captain Wilson’s tenure is of great concern to us in Wakanda, and I would imagine to other advisors as well.” Her tone grew brittle. “I would urge you to convene a meeting as soon as possible to discuss what can be done to improve the situation. The Avengers’ reputation received a huge boost from their—actually, our—actions before and during the Battle of Earth. I know I speak also for his highness and her highness when I say I am dismayed to watch that goodwill diminish as a result of the botched debut of the new Captain America.”</p>
<p>Steve and Natasha looked at each other and grimaced, half in sympathy for the besieged Rhodey, half in agreement. Okoye was doling out more harshness than they’d expected but he kind of deserved it. They couldn’t see Rhodey’s face but could well imagine his expression.</p>
<p>He sounded flustered, for sure. “I, my goodness General Okoye, I didn’t realize . . . How about I send this letter to the advisory council today and propose a couple of dates in December for a holoconference?”</p>
<p>“That would be an excellent idea. Captain Wilson and Sergeant Barnes will be in attendance?”</p>
<p>“Well, uh, it being mostly about them, it might be awkward for them to—”</p>
<p>“His highness would be very disappointed if they did not have the opportunity to participate. This is not a mere personnel matter. Sam Wilson is entrusted with an important public and private commission.”</p>
<p>“OK, sure, I’ll ask them to be on hand.”</p>
<p>Okoye continued to deescalate the conversation, and shut down the link after a relatively cordial farewell. “The session has been terminated. You may speak freely,” she told the Americans.</p>
<p>“Wow, you did not go easy on him,” Natasha observed. “I didn’t know you were that angry.”</p>
<p>“Oh, <i>that</i> was not angry,” countered Okoye, shaking her head. “Were I truly angry I would have flown there to confront him in person. Today I merely decided he needed to face a certain amount of severity so that he would focus on the problem. He is clearly overwhelmed with his responsibilities. I rather pity him, to be honest.”</p>
<p>“I pitied him too, there in the middle,” Steve said. “I was surprised at how nice it was to hear his voice. Except when he accused me of desertion. Even though we were in opposition for awhile, he was a teammate. And he did us a solid that I can’t forget, when we came in from the cold.”</p>
<p>“I am happy to be more cordial in the future—as long as he continues on the right path.”</p>
<p>Natasha put in, “You played a card I didn’t expect. The king isn’t really going to be on that call, is he?”</p>
<p>“He will if I ask him to, and I am likely to do so,” Okoye responded. “The presence of a head of state will elevate the importance of the proceedings for TAO, so would ensure that something will finally get done. Both regarding the memorial and to address the Wilson problem.”</p>
<p>“It’s not just Sam’s. Mine too,” Steve said ruefully. “The Rogers-Wilson problem, I guess.”</p>
<p>“Call it the Captain America problem,” Natasha advised. “The rollout is at the feet of TAO leadership, and the reputation of Cap affects the image of the whole group.”</p>
<p>Okoye’s phone buzzed, and she glanced at it, raising an eyebrow. “It is Col. Rhodes. Shall I answer here?”</p>
<p>“Absolutely,” Natasha affirmed. She and Steve retreated to their safe spot as Okoye engaged with Rhodey on speaker.</p>
<p>“General, I’ve just been brought a box of items salvaged from the headquarters ruins,” he said, sounding uncharacteristically excited. “One of them would be fantastic as part of Natasha’s memorial. I can show it to you, you’ll be blown away.”</p>
<p>Steve and Natasha turned to each other and each mouthed, “What?”</p>
<p>Okoye put the phone down and switched to hologram mode. “Go ahead, Colonel.”</p>
<p>Rhodey held up a wooden picture frame, its glass shattered and one corner burned off. But the image inside it was clear: a smoke-smudged pencil drawing of Natasha in a T-shirt and jeans. “It was found with other items that are clearly hers, from her suite. Well, the twisted wreckage near where her suite was. What do you think?”</p>
<p>“A good likeness,” said Okoye, as cool as could be. “I assume she approved of it as she had it framed.”</p>
<p>Natasha and Steve stared stunned in the direction of the hologram. From their angle they couldn’t see what Rhodey was displaying but they could guess.</p>
<p>“Do we have any idea of the artist?” asked Okoye, continuing her charade flawlessly.</p>
<p>“That’s what’s so great—it’s by Steve. He sketched all of us after the Snap. It’s even signed.”</p>
<p>“Ah, this indeed gives the image more poignancy,” she said. “From whom would we need to obtain permission to use it?”</p>
<p>“Oh, I hadn’t thought about that. I’ll have Legal look at her will to see who she left her personal effects to. Fortunately we have everyone’s wills—they were backed up offsite.”</p>
<p>“Shit,” Nat whispered to no one in particular. Steve nudged her and silently asked, “Why? Who?”</p>
<p>“You,” she responded, and squeezed her eyes shut in consternation.</p>
<p>“If you would check on that issue and if possible have the drawing scanned for online use, I would be much obliged,” Okoye said. They exchanged farewells and rang off again.</p>
<p>“I can’t believe that thing survived,” Natasha said, astonished. “I’d love to have it back, but it’s going to be in limbo.”</p>
<p>“Didn’t you specify a contingent beneficiary?” Steve asked.</p>
<p>“No. I left my cash and securities to Clint and Laura. I left my real estate and everything else to you but I never got around to naming contingents.” She crossed her arms and looked thoughtful. “It’s weird, but I’d totally forgotten about this. I’m dead so they’re going to give away my stuff.”</p>
<p>“It seems this would be difficult if no one has account numbers and passwords. I would have thought that information would have been kept in your now-destroyed residence,” Okoye pointed out.</p>
<p>“There’s also a copy in a safe deposit box in Newburgh. The passcode to get into the box is in my confidential file, which should be in the offsite backup.”</p>
<p>“Who’s executor?” Steve asked.</p>
<p>“You are,” Natasha informed him. “But the alternate is Clint. And he won’t be able to find you to give you the inheritance, either.”</p>
<p>“But everyone knows I’m not dead. Just . . . gone.”</p>
<p>“There’s no case law on the status of someone living in another timeline—not yet, anyway. I think there’s a legal provision that says if an heir can’t be located, then <i>their</i> heirs get the bequest. Crap, this is definitely going to end up in court.”</p>
<p>“Yep, especially since I left my assets and effects to you,” Steve said.</p>
<p>Natasha gawked at him. “All of it?”</p>
<p>He shrugged. “Sure. Who else?”</p>
<p>“Bucky, of course.”</p>
<p>“He was in my will for awhile—a trust fund for him, anyhow. I revised the will about two years after the Snap, though. And then, after I found out you were dead, there wasn’t time or inclination to worry about wills. I wasn’t thinking straight enough after the Blip to put him back in. It didn’t occur to me to care about money or possessions. I was abandoning everything.”</p>
<p>“The last will and testament template we used had the Avengers organization as the last contingency. That was so people’s estates wouldn’t go to the government if everyone named in a will turned out to be dead or missing.” Natasha’s eyes grew wide as she realized something else. “Clint knows I’m alive but he’ll have to execute my will as if he believes I’m dead. That’s asking a lot.”</p>
<p>Okoye shook her head. “With all these complications, the sketch Rhodes showed me may not be liberated for years, if ever. I think it would be best if you carry on with drawing the replacement, Steve.”</p>
<p>“I’m game,” he said with a grin.</p>
<p>“Sure,” Natasha said happily. “It’s gonna be fun.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0035"><h2>35. A Day for Surprises</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Sam and Bucky find out there’s more than meets the eye to the new shield. Rhodey delivers news about the advisors and Natasha’s memorial, and Bucky discloses information about Steve’s time trip.</p><p>Rating: Teen and Up<br/>Content Note: one F-bomb</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This chapter brought up an interesting question: In the MCU and my extrapolations of this universe, what comic books and characters exist? </p><p>The concept clearly does, as in CATFA we see people reading Cap comics in the 1940s. I think it’s clear that “Marvel Comics” does not exist, since those characters are real; if the company does exist it has an entirely different collection. Does DC Comics and its characters exist in that universe? </p><p>I didn’t find anything definitive online and will admit that I have not seen every minute of every MCU movie to know if there are ever any references. I can see arguments either way: comic books exist so why not DC, but on the other hand why would made-up superheroes be popular when you have people/beings such as Hulk, Thor, Spider-Man, and Thanos actually running around IRL? </p><p>I’m coming down on the side of yes, at least as far as it concerns the big names such as Batman, Superman, and Wonder Woman because when they were created in this universe the only known real “superhero” was Cap, and he was only around IRL for a couple of years in that era and nobody else showed up until Hulk, right? (Captain Marvel skeddadled quick). So plenty of cultural room for them for decades. </p><p>Tl,dr: Therefore in this chapter I went ahead with a Batman reference.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Holding his shield in his lap, Sam squinted at the strap in frustration. In their basement office the lighting was still none too good. “Damn, this buckle is fused or something,” he exclaimed. “Can’t get it apart so I can adjust it.”</p><p>“Corroded?” Bucky asked, focused on his computer screen.</p><p>“Doesn’t look it. Just won’t budge.” Sam slid his hand under the strap. His finger happened to touch the bracket attaching the leather to the shield body.</p><p>A searing golden light filled his vision. He snapped his head back and threw his hands up. The shield slid off his lap and hit the floor with a ringing clang as he kicked his feet to roll his chair away from it.</p><p>Bucky leaped up into a fighting stance and they both stared at the shield. It rocked gently back and forth a few times, then came to rest on the midpoint of its curve. A foot above it, a hologram glowed: a logo and three characters of Wakandan script.</p><p>After several seconds of nothing happening, the men settled down, while still regarding the projection warily. “Wakandan Design Group logo and initials,” Buck noted.</p><p>Sam rolled closer and gingerly touched the logo. The hologram shifted, showing a menu with choices of English, French, German, and Wakandan. He selected “English.” The hologram changed again:</p><p>
  <span class="u">
    <b>Captain America Shield Manual</b>
  </span>
</p>
<ul>
  <li><b>Purpose, Design and Manufacture</b></li>
  <li><b>Specifications and Test Results</b></li>
  <li><b>Power</b></li>
  <li><b>Security and Input Features</b></li>
  <li><b>Appearance Options</b></li>
  <li><b>Active Functionalities</b></li>
  <li><b>Carry Options</b></li>
</ul><p>“I’ll be a son of a bitch,” Sam exclaimed. “This thing is way more than a hunk of vibranium. Why’d they include French and German, though?”</p><p>“Probably meant for Steve originally—he knows those languages,” Bucky pointed out. “Look at the Purpose section.”</p><p>Sam touched the word, which brought up a page of text.</p><p>
  <b>This shield was initially designed and manufactured by WDG on the authority of and to the specifications of His Highness King T’Challa. The project started 4 July 2016 and completed 1 September 2016. This generation was designated 2. The 1943 version designed by Howard Stark and used extensively by Capt. Steve Rogers is considered generation 1. Shield 2 was engineered to the precise dimensions of 1 so its weight and aerodynamics, and therefore its usage in defense and as a weapon, would be exactly the same. This is the case even though 2 contained hollows accommodating a fleet of nanobots, which at first launch provided limited appearance-changing capabilities.</b>
</p><p>
  <b>Shield 2’s purpose at project initiation was to serve as replacement for 1, which was relinquished by Rogers to Tony Stark in June 2016. Though he expressed gratitude, Rogers refused the replacement, citing its association with the “Captain America” persona which he asserted he no longer inhabited at that time. The shield was stored at WDG headquarters for possible future use.</b>
</p><p>Bucky, reading over Sam’s shoulder, asked, “Did you know about any of this back then?”</p><p>“Not a damn bit. They offered him a brand-new high-tech shield and he turned it down?”</p><p>“Don’t act surprised. Of course he did.”</p><p>
  <b>In August 2022, nearing the sixth anniversary of the completion of Shield 2, The Hon. Gen. Okoye directed WDG to upgrade the ware, in particular the capabilities of the nanobot fleet. The shield body was renovated as well, and the resulting system designated generation 3. It was successfully demonstrated on 1 September 2023 and subsequently replaced in secure storage.</b>
</p><p>“Wow. I wonder what all it can do?” Sam said. “Let’s check the strap first.”</p><p>Carry Options revealed that the strap was not leather and metal; it consisted totally of nanobots. The operator could change the dimensions, apparent material, and a variety of parameters such as elasticity, or erase the strap completely. In addition, there were options to magnetize the entire shield body or particular spots.</p><p>Specifications was mostly a list of numbers, but noted that Shield 3 achieved the exact dimensions of 1 by using an advanced, denser vibranium alloy that made up for the extensive hollow pockets. Those contained the nanobot fleet, circuitry, and batteries. The convex surface was pigmented to resemble Shield 1 when the nanobot camouflage was turned off.</p><p>The Power section revealed that the batteries were replenished via the shield’s being thrown (kinetic charging) or struck (vibrational charging), or via nanobots deployed as photovoltaic cells.</p><p>Security and Input showed how to lock the system via passcode or biometrics. Features could be controlled with voice commands or tapping codes as well as through the manual.</p><p>“Jesus, does this thing make phone calls?” Sam marveled.</p><p>“Maybe not, but I’m willing to bet it’s got GPS,” said Bucky.</p><p>They found Homing Beacon and Tracking under Active Functionalities, along with Mirror, Flashlight, Spotlight, and Heater, each of which Sam tested. “Those really drain the batteries,” he noted, checking the indicator in the Power tab.</p><p>Appearance Options contained some spectacular features including complex camouflages: The nanobots could make the shield resemble a backpack, cooking pan, basket, and other objects. Dozens of colors and patterns could be applied to the convex surface, and custom designs uploaded.</p><p>“I like matte black. Understated. Cool,” Sam said, holding up the shield admiringly.</p><p>“You could design it to match your new uniform,” Bucky noted.</p><p>“If we can ever stop arguing about what that’s going to be,” Sam groused. With a few taps he restored the shield to default coloring, turned off the hologram, and leaned it against his desk. “Bruce and Rhodey want me in a flashy suit and I am not down with that.”</p><p>“At least you’ve got a name established. My name and uniform are both up in the air.”</p><p>“Neither of your existing monikers is workable, but that’s an opportunity to not have one at all,” Sam insisted. All involved had agreed that “Winter Soldier” had origins in an evil program and came off creepy. Bucky was fond of “White Wolf,” but what made sense in a country with few white people didn’t necessarily translate to a global context. It sounded too much like a neo-Nazi superhero.</p><p>“‘Captain America and Bucky.’ I don’t think so.”</p><p>“Yeah, kinda sounds like Batman and Robin,” Sam agreed. “I’m still trying to get out of ‘Captain America.’ We should present as professionals and use our real names, throw in our old ranks if we want to sound more official.”</p><p>Bucky shook his head. “The Avengers is entwined with Captain America. It’s part of the brand or whatever. I know the leadership doesn’t want to lose it and I bet the advisory council won’t either.”</p><p>“They should if they’re smart. Better than me trying to take it on.”</p><p>“Why? I can see their point. People have good associations with the name, especially now.”</p><p>“Because . . .” Sam trailed off and looked down at the shield. “Because I ain’t ever gonna be Steve, man. I shouldn’t look like I’m even trying.”</p><p>“You don’t have to be Steve. You just have to do good, be good, stand for good things. You told him you didn’t want to live in a world without Captain America. Neither do a lot of people.”</p><p>“But it’s not—I’m not . . . People are not buying this, Buck. They hate me,” he said in a pleading tone. It was the first time he’d admitted how public opinion was getting him down.</p><p>“You’re overstating it. Sure there are some who are bitching. From what I can tell, on this internet thing, it’s a pastime for useless jerks. Any excuse to sling some hate, doesn’t matter about what.”</p><p>“There are real questions out there about me. Us.”</p><p>“Sure. People are apprehensive,” Bucky admitted. “That’ll get better the more good stuff we do. You said Sarkis accused you of hunting trophies for TV. Actually, he’s not wrong. We need to show how we’re helping, being effective.”</p><p>“It’ll never be enough. You mentioned that people have particularly good associations now with the name. It’s because of the reports about what the Avengers did to make the Blip happen, and about the battle. And there’s pictures. Gonna take a lot of trophies to add up to those images. Cap alone on the field against an alien army. Wielding Mjolnir. Carrying the wounded afterwards.”</p><p>“You took those photos. So it’s kinda your fault.”</p><p>Sam chuckled mirthlessly. “Maybe. Pictures or no, I’m never going to be that worthy.”</p><p>“You and I were there, we did our part,” Bucky countered.</p><p>“None of us outdid Stark that day, may he rest in peace. Steve included,” Sam conceded.</p><p>“You’ve got an advantage: you’ve always been one of the good guys,” Bucky argued. “Look at my situation. I <i>was</i> a good guy, on Steve’s team even. Now I have to prove myself again because I was turned into a mind-wiped assassin. You don’t.”</p><p>“At least you have a compelling backstory, and you’re an enhanced ass-kicker. I’m boring. Just this ex-pararescue guy.”</p><p>“If you were just some guy, Steve never would have passed on the role to you,” Bucky insisted. “Don’t forget that. He believed in you, and he kept believing. He had time to decide differently, but he showed up after decades to give you the shield. Now with his letter, everybody will understand how much he thought of you.”</p><p>Sam shook his head. “I may never forgive him for that.”</p><p>They heard the creaking of texoskeleton that heralded Rhodey’s approach. The men looked at each other in surprise; neither co-director had yet been to their office.</p><p>Rhodey stopped at the bottom of the stairs. “Hey, fellas. Saw your car in the lot. Working on Saturday, huh?” Bucky gave him a smile and nod, and waved his metal arm toward a side chair.</p><p>The rental HQ didn’t have residences, but the Foundation had bought a small condo building down the street so Avengers and key staff could live close by. Sam and Bucky shared a townhouse.</p><p>“No rest for the weary,” Sam said flatly. “There’s prep to do for Monday’s all hands meeting. We’ll take some of tomorrow off.”</p><p>“Glad you’re into the job,” Rhodey said, settling down in the beat-up wooden chair. “How’s life here in the dungeon?”</p><p>“Pretty good,” Sam replied. “We found a new toy. New features on an old toy, actually.”</p><p>Sam showed Rhodey their discoveries about the shield, to his astonishment. “This is amazingly advanced,” he gushed. “And they upgraded it while Shuri was still gone.”</p><p>“I wonder why they decided to work on it then,” Bucky mused.</p><p>“You might get a chance to ask soon,” Rhodey said. He had no idea that Barnes talked frequently on a secure connection to Wakanda. Neither did Sam.</p><p>“How?” asked Sam.</p><p>“First advisory council meeting is scheduled for Friday the 15th, 0900 hours Juliet time. Major topic will be Steve’s letter, and discussing the way forward with the Captain America rollout. I understand King T’Challa will attend and he wants to hear from both of you.”</p><p>“Wow,” Sam said, raising his eyebrows. “We’ll be there.”</p><p>Bucky was also surprised, though didn’t let on. The meeting hadn’t been mentioned in his recent conversation with Shuri.</p><p>“Can we put Natasha on the agenda?” Sam asked. “Been meaning to bring it up. We should—”</p><p>“A commemoration initiative is ready,” Rhodes said breezily. “Will kick off before then. I was going to fill you in on that today.”</p><p>“Oh.” Sam was taken aback. “Wish I’d been in on the planning.”</p><p>Rhodey had the grace to look guilty. “We hadn’t gotten anywhere until a few days ago. We being Bruce, Sharon, Clint, and myself. Then I got a call from Gen. Okoye. Turns out the Wakandans already formulated a three-part plan. She asked me to run it by you.” He briefly explained the ideas.</p><p>“That all sounds good,” Sam said. “I want to add a memorial service, for TAO personnel only, before year end. Doesn’t have to be elaborate, but it’s important for closure for those of us who knew her, and for group cohesion for those who didn’t.”</p><p>Rhodey covered his surprise at the good idea and analysis. He was reminded of how much he didn’t know about Wilson. He thought about the Rogers letter; there were multiple reasons Cap had chosen his literal wingman to succeed him.</p><p>Sam glanced at Bucky, who stared toward him with the peculiar intensity that sometimes made him unnerving to be around. Somehow Sam knew what he meant.</p><p>“Colonel, I suggest the event be a dual memorial.”</p><p>Rhodey was puzzled. “We already had a big funeral for Tony.”</p><p>“Not Tony. Steve.”</p><p>“But he’s—”</p><p>“Not dead. However, from what we know, he’s . . . irretrievable. So gone that he might as well be dead. Saying goodbye in a ceremonial way would help us move on.”</p><p>“I hear what you’re saying, and it has merit,” Rhodes conceded. “I have to wonder, though, if we’d be doing Natasha a disservice by adding him. Diluting the focus.”</p><p>Sam leaned forward with his elbows on his knees. “There are people who knew Natasha better than I did,” he said, thinking of Clint. “There are people who knew Steve better than I did.” He glanced over at Bucky. “But I’d lay odds that no one knew them together better than I. And I assure you, neither would object to being honored in the same service. They were a team like no other.”</p><p>“You got that right,” Rhodey said with a sigh. “Man, this is so tough for those left behind. It’s like they’re MIA, presumed KIA, and there’ll be no burials to attend, no graves to lay a wreath on.”</p><p>Sam’s eyes narrowed. “You know, if we could get approval to use the time machine again for a specific purpose, we could go to Vormir and retrieve her remains. Should be possible if we timed it—”</p><p>“It’s not,” Bucky interjected. “Possible.”</p><p>“What d’you mean? Why not?” asked Sam.</p><p>“He already tried it.”</p><p>Sam and Rhodey stared at him dumbfounded. “What the fuck are you talking about?” Sam exclaimed.</p><p>Uncomfortably, Bucky explained. “Steve said before he left that he’d try to retrieve her when he put the Soul Stone back. He told me that if he were successful he’d come back secretly, right after he left. He’d leave the body in a particular place. If I didn’t find her there, that would mean he was prevented from doing it. That it wasn’t allowed somehow or the corpse had vanished or whatever. I checked the spot every day for a week, in case the time positioning system was off. Nothing.”</p><p>“That’s extra trips,” Rhodey said. “Did he have enough Pym particles for that, and replacing all the stones, plus going to the past?”</p><p>“He mentioned his first stop would be Pym’s lab, sometime in the ‘70s. To get some more.”</p><p>Sam’s mouth had dropped open, and now it snapped closed. “Are there other secret side trips you want to tell us about at this late date?” he asked, anger threatening to boil over.</p><p>“Sam,” Rhodey said, putting out a calming hand. “It doesn’t really matter.”</p><p>“The hell it doesn’t,” Sam spat out. “That makes at least three unauthorized actions he took while on an extremely high-stakes mission. Sgt. Barnes, are there any more that you have not disclosed?” he demanded.</p><p>“No.”</p><p>“I shouldn’t be hearing about this just now. If you’re gonna be my deputy, you have to be more forthcoming. Apparently Steve didn’t have objections to lying by omission, but I do. We need to set an example for transparency within TAO, among the Avengers in particular. Do you understand me?”</p><p>Bucky stared at him a few seconds. When he answered, it was without sarcasm or disrespect. “Yes, sir.”</p><p>Sam studied Buck’s demeanor, found it genuine, and relaxed. “All right. But don’t call me sir; I work for a living. I’m not a real captain, it’s just part of the name.”</p><p>“Dunno, man. You sound pretty real to me,” Rhodey said.</p><p>Sam glanced at him sidelong. “Thanks, Colonel.” He shook his head and looked down at his hands. “All this secrecy. He didn’t even bother to tell me how to open the shield manual. Makes me wonder what else he withheld about what he planned to do.”</p><p>“He made clear in his letter that returning the stones precisely was crucial,” Rhodey said.</p><p>“He wrote that, but do we believe him? They’re powerful, almost unimaginably so. Who knows what use he might have found for one? Or Mjolnir?”</p><p>Bucky sat up straight and frowned. “Hey. He may have played some things close to the vest but he wouldn’t lie about something so important. And he wouldn’t have kept a stone or the hammer for himself. He’s not like that.”</p><p>“I thought I knew him pretty well, and I wouldn’t have figured he’d make the ‘go back to Peggy and run out on us’ play,” Sam said bitterly.</p><p>Bucky raised his voice. “He didn’t owe us anything. He served his hitch, and more. Earned the right to do want he wanted, for himself, for once. You think I should have tried to stop him, or ratted him out?”</p><p>“No,” Sam conceded. “I see why you did as he asked and kept your mouth shut. You put your loyalty to him above the team, but you owed him a lot more than you owe us. I fault him, not you.”</p><p>“You said at the press conference he was entitled to make the choice to quit. Now you’re blaming him,” Bucky objected.</p><p>“It’s not the retiring, it’s doing it without warning. And—” Sam stopped abruptly, not wanting to say more in Rhodey’s presence about his complicated feelings toward Steve.</p><p>“Guys, guys, let’s chill out,” Rhodes said. “What’s done is done, no use speculating. We’ve no way to find out what really happened, anyhow. He may have been a little fast and loose on the outbound, but he felt under the gun about using the time machine before we had to shut it down. He could see that coming. I’m no Cap partisan, but I don’t believe he screwed around with Infinity Stones, or didn’t put the hammer back on Asgard. We can trust him at least that far.”</p><p>Sam slumped down in his chair. “Yeah, OK. You’re probably right. But this ain’t no way to run a railroad. Going forward, we shouldn’t have anybody in that kind of situation. We need to have accountability. Someone should’ve gone with him, because nobody’s infallible.”</p><p>“You said the key words, Wilson. Going forward,” Rhodey replied. “Everything the world just went through, we’ll hopefully never see the likes of again. But we can learn from it. As Captain America, it’s up to you to establish guidelines for the team and set an example.”</p><p>“If I can get them to listen to me. They’re almost as dubious as the public.”</p><p>“Everyone is still recovering, still destabilized, unsure about the landscape. It’ll get better, especially if you show strong leadership. I’m trying to do my part, even though this isn’t my favorite type of role,” Rhodey said. “I’m more of a sidekick kind of guy.”</p><p>Sam sat up straight again. “Sorry, man. Not trying to make your life harder. You’re doing a good job under the circumstances. Seems like a long time since we came back in the Blip, but it isn’t. And only one month tomorrow since Steve left.”</p><p>They sat in silent contemplation for several moments. Then Bucky spoke up, to the surprise of the other men.</p><p>“There are big holes in the team, and in our lives. They can’t really be filled. We can only work around them,” he insisted. “All we have left to rely on is ourselves. I think we gotta be kind to each other as we figure it out.”</p><p>Rhodey and Sam regarded him. The last survivor of the 107th Tactical Team, the last surviving Winter Soldier, and one of the last survivors of his entire generation. A man who had lost everything, except them. Suddenly their own problems seemed far less daunting.</p><p>“You’re right, Buck,” Sam said softly. “We’re going to make it through this. We’ll succeed. Together.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0036"><h2>36. Another Step</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Steve makes a bold move. Will Natasha be able to resist? Will she want to?</p>
<p>Rating: Mature<br/>Content note: Sexual situations</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Natasha sat in the hallway outside Steve’s apartment, near a floor-to-ceiling window looking onto the courtyard. He’d taken a comfy chair from his living room and positioned it for good lighting. Wearing the same dress as for the previous session, she relaxed with a leg tucked up under her, a pair of sandals on the floor. Steve sat facing her, with a drawing pad, about two meters away.</p>
<p>“Don’t despair, I’m almost finished,” he assured her.</p>
<p>“It’s fine. I don’t mind sitting. For you,” she responded languidly.</p>
<p>His brow furrowed as he applied a few last strokes of pastel to deepen the yellow of her shift. He held up the pad and eyed the result critically.</p>
<p>“I shouldn’t overdo this. It’s supposed to have been made while we were on the run. I wouldn’t have worked on it for days.”</p>
<p>“The charcoal you did last week was killer. Okoye thought it would make a great opening image for the memorial.”</p>
<p>“I’m inspired by my subject. Not sure how well this one might scan for use on your site, but I couldn’t resist doing a color portrait. Your hair is particularly gorgeous right now.”</p>
<p>“Why thank you. Desta recommended a colleague with a security clearance who also has experience cutting white people’s hair. She didn’t take much off, and it looks nicer.”</p>
<p>Steve watched Nat a moment more. He’d been concentrating on her for the past half hour, but he didn’t think he’d ever tire of her lovely face and form. Today she looked so carefree and relaxed, it filled his heart with hope: that she could be happy.</p>
<p>Carefully he closed the drawing pad and reassembled his pastel pencil set. “You’re free to go, madame model.”</p>
<p>“What if I don’t want to go?” she said with an exaggerated pout.</p>
<p>“You’re more than welcome to hang around with me, of course. I’ve got iced tea.”</p>
<p>“I’m a sucker for tea.”</p>
<p>Natasha was about to offer to drag the chair back into the living room when he added, “If you’d carry the art stuff and hold the door open, that would be a great help.” She did so, and he hefted the heavy upholstered wooden chair effortlessly and toted it back into the apartment, pausing to leave his sandals at the door. She marveled at how easy it was, even after all these years, to forget his strength when they weren’t fighting or training. On a daily basis he came off as gentle, soft-spoken, even harmless. At least to her.</p>
<p>Steve set down the chair and headed for the kitchen. “Want a snack? I have leftover sweets that need to get eaten.”</p>
<p>“Just one. Lunch was huge. Gana outdid herself with the stew.”</p>
<p>“It’s delicious. I swear our portion contained an entire goat. There’s enough for dinner.” He popped a puff puff into his mouth. It was fried and sugar-dusted, about the size of a doughnut hole.</p>
<p>“I’m surprised we have that much left. You ate like three bowls.”</p>
<p>Carrying a pastry on a napkin and two cups of tea, he joined her on the cushioned bench in the living area. “You know me. I burn it off,” Steve said.</p>
<p>“I wonder if that’ll ever change,” Natasha mused, nibbling.</p>
<p>“It might. Nobody understands my aging process, really. It seems slower than normal, but who knows? I might drop dead one day and leave a fit-looking corpse.”</p>
<p>“Bite your tongue. And hey—too soon, dude. I was a fit-looking corpse, like, five weeks ago.” She finished the puff puff and washed it down with tea.</p>
<p>“Ah. Sorry, that was pretty insensitive. Want to let me make up for it?”</p>
<p>She waved a dismissive hand. “No big deal, but what’d you have in mind?”</p>
<p>“I’ve found ingredients in the markets for a version of kao moo dang. You liked it when I made it in the old days. Saturday dinner?” Steve asked hopefully.</p>
<p>“Sure. We’ve been spending most of our time together, why wouldn’t I be free?”</p>
<p>“You’ve made new friends. You might be doing something with them.”</p>
<p>“I appreciate the consideration, but I’m definitely up for Thai food. What’s the occasion? You didn’t come up with this right now after feeling bad about a corpse joke.”</p>
<p>“Nothing special, just thought it would be a nice change.” He gazed at her innocently.</p>
<p>“You’re a better liar than in the old days, but I’m a professional, Stevie boy. And we’re past playing games. What’s this about?”</p>
<p>He shook his head. “All right, fine. You want honesty.”</p>
<p>“I do. I crave it.”</p>
<p>“I thought we could have dinner, some wine, dessert. Then, I would seduce you.” Steve made sure his face was perfectly neutral.</p>
<p>He caught Nat off guard, but she recovered quickly. “Uh-huh. You do know you’re not supposed to advertise that to the seductee?”</p>
<p>“Hey, I was trying to be suave and sneaky, but you called me out. All your fault.”</p>
<p>“It’s a fair cop. How’s this supposed to go?”</p>
<p>“Well, I’ll make sure the place looks nice.”</p>
<p>She glanced around. “The staff keeps it spotless, and you’re tidy.”</p>
<p>“I’ll bring in flowers, maybe new throw pillows. Create subtle interest and excitement. Psychology,” Steve said, tapping a finger against his temple.</p>
<p>“Good idea. Crafty.”</p>
<p>“Make dinner enough of a production to impress you, but not take overly long. We drink some wine while I cook and you watch, more wine with dinner, then settle in on the sofa—well, this poofy bench—to have a sexy dessert.”</p>
<p>“What’s a sexy dessert?”</p>
<p>“I looked it up. People seem to think strawberries with whipped cream is hot. Figuratively. Or maybe Thai sticky rice and mango; I haven’t decided.”</p>
<p>“Either of those work for me,” Natasha said nonchalantly. “Music?”</p>
<p>“Now that you’re in on this, you could help. I don’t want it to be too clichéd.”</p>
<p>“What’s on the system now?” She listened a few moments. “‘<span>Neunundneunzig Luftballons’</span>?”</p>
<p>“This is an annual top-forty countdown. I think it’s on ’84. I figured instrumentals would be more seductive. Debussy? Coltrane? Segovia?”</p>
<p>“Those are fine, but how about a Mahler symphony? Drama would be appropriate.”</p>
<p>“Mahler? Sure, whatever you like.”</p>
<p>“Then what?” she asked.</p>
<p>“More scintillating conversation, smoldering glances, we kiss, one thing leads to another. You know how it goes.” Steve wore the faintest of smiles, like a male Mona Lisa.</p>
<p>“No candles? Rose petals on the bed? Those are classic.”</p>
<p>“Petals and candles, can do. And clean sheets.”</p>
<p>“Ooh, definitely clean sheets.” They both chuckled, and she put her cup down on the table. “Let’s cut the crap,” Natasha said.</p>
<p>“It was crap?”</p>
<p>“Well yeah. We’ve had trouble keeping our hands off each other the past few weeks. You know you don’t need to get elaborate, and I know you know because we’re talking about it and making it a joke.”</p>
<p>“Meta seduction,” he said with a smirk.</p>
<p>“Be real, Steve. You’re signaling that you want to take another step, between us?”</p>
<p>He grew serious as well, and set his teacup down. “Yes, I am.”</p>
<p>“Are you sure? It’s been less than a month since you got back.”</p>
<p>“I’m surprised too. But I’ve stopped obsessing about the past, beating myself up about what I could have done differently.” Steve wondered if he should be honest enough to tell her that his mind, conscious and subconscious, had shifted completely from dwelling on Peggy to dreaming about Nat. Probably not, he thought.</p>
<p>“I feel free, basically,” was what he did say. “I don’t even miss the compass anymore. Maybe because we’re far from DC, in a very different place and time—it seems our marriage receded quickly. It genuinely feels like it happened many years ago, which in a way it did.”</p>
<p>“I can see that. But I don’t want to push this, and I don’t want you to either,” Natasha said quietly. “Your mind may feel ready. You need to make sure the rest of the system is on board.”</p>
<p>“I hear what you’re saying. But I think it’s the other way around.” Steve sighed. “I realized I was withdrawing from Peggy months before I left. Even while I thought I was committed to making it work. Maybe a self-protective mechanism kicked in as I became more depressed and homesick. It prepared me to leave when I reached the end of my rope. And even early on, in the back of my mind was the knowledge that you were alive. The more miserable I got, the more my faint hope for us grew.”</p>
<p>“It feels bad to think I had anything to do with breaking up your marriage,” Natasha said with a frown.</p>
<p>“With so many obstacles and stresses, I’m certain it would have happened in any case,” Steve insisted. “It wouldn’t have been on you anyway—I’m accountable for my feelings and choices. Nobody else is.”</p>
<p>She sighed. “A man who takes responsibility for his actions and emotional life? Now <i>that’s</i> seductive.” She put her hand over his as it rested on the cushion. She looked fondly at the cuff of his shirt, the one he’d worn the first time she’d met him and the day he’d returned from the past.</p>
<p>His eyebrows went up. “I thought responsibility and introspection were boring. Women like impulsive and volatile, I’ve been told.”</p>
<p>“I’m too old for that shit,” Natasha said firmly. “I want a grownup man. No bad boys, no arrested development—no more. Besides, you make integrity exciting somehow. Maybe that’s your best superpower. Because of it, people are willing to follow you to the gates of hell.”</p>
<p>“I’m over <i>that</i>. I’m ready for radical peace and love.”</p>
<p>Steve put an arm around her and they cuddled in silence. As her head lay on his plaid shoulder, she wondered why he was in his old clothing today. He’d been wearing mostly Wakandan-style outfits. Soon she was distracted by his clean scent and radiant warmth and began to nuzzle his neck, making him chuckle.</p>
<p>Natasha backed off a little so she could enjoy his handsome face. Their proximity and the way he looked at her made her tingle. She still thought it would be a good idea to wait before getting physically involved. But she wanted him so much that in the depths of her mind she’d already accepted that they would take the next step in the coming days.</p>
<p>Steve reached over and stroked her hair, then ran his hand lingeringly down her body. It was the first time he’d ever dared touch her breasts, and the first time she’d felt such a caress in years. He tucked a hand lightly under her knee, telegraphing a question with his hesitation. She nodded, and he scooped her up and set her on his lap, holding her close and secure.</p>
<p>She sighed in contentment, snuggling against him again. “So, seduction Saturday,” she mused in a sultry voice. “Why then? It’s not like we have regular jobs.”</p>
<p>“Weekends are still more open. Plenty of time to chop vegetables, grind spices, take a shower right before you show up, shave my neck, groom the beard.” It had grown in lushly but looked perfectly trimmed, as though he had worked on it already.</p>
<p>Nat caressed his neck. “Feels fine to me. No need to take the extra time.”</p>
<p>“Speaking of extra time, if you stayed over to Sunday, it could be a long, lazy day in bed.” His sly half smile made her wonder whether she wanted to wait that long.</p>
<p>Steve’s gaze lingered on her full rosy mouth, then narrowed as he focused on her chin. He delicately plucked something from beneath her lip.</p>
<p>“Crumb. Grooming instinct,” he explained.</p>
<p>She laughed. “And things were just getting interesting.”</p>
<p>“Let me try that again.”</p>
<p>Steve leaned in and they kissed gently, then more passionately. It was as thoroughly involving as their previous trial, and today they had no imminent visitors to interrupt. His hand caressed her knee, then traveled slowly, over several minutes, up her leg. When he reached the end of her thigh under her light shift, Natasha stopped him from going further. But only because she had a question to ask.</p>
<p>“I, ah, hate to rain on your parade,” she said, breathless. “But what would you say to not going through the whole Saturday scenario? Maybe see whether one thing could lead to another right now.”</p>
<p>“Fine by me. You have anything to do tomorrow?”</p>
<p>“Nothing I can’t put off.”</p>
<p>“Are you OK without the Mahler? I’d have to download some.”</p>
<p>“To hell with Gustav. And Thai food.”</p>
<p>“You’re sure?”</p>
<p>“I’m madly in love. I just need you,” she declared, looking him directly in the eye.</p>
<p>“Well, here you go,” Steve said, and stretched his arms wide as though presenting himself. Natasha took him by the shoulders and leaned in, tracing her lips lightly from his jawline down to the hollow of his throat, feeling the throb of his pulse as it increased. She ran her fingers through his hair. He shut his eyes and shivered, placing his hands on her waist and pulling her closer.</p>
<p>They kissed again, more fiercely, caressing each other with increasing boldness. Finally, Steve sat forward and broke off the kiss, leaving them gasping. He moved as if about to stand with her in his arms, but paused.</p>
<p>“Would carrying you into the bedroom be romantic or cringey?”</p>
<p>“Both, I think. How about we split the difference: Carry me to the door, then let me down.”</p>
<p>“You got it.” He stood without strain, as though he were carrying a feather pillow.</p>
<p>“Wait,” Natasha said, putting a hand on his chest. “Steve, are you sure this is right for you, right now?” she asked, in the same tone she might use to check on his welfare in the midst of a mission.</p>
<p>“Yes. No doubts. And I’m not even drunk.”</p>
<p>“You’re never drunk.”</p>
<p>“Even so. What about you?”</p>
<p>“I’m good to go. Carry on.”</p>
<p>Catching the beat from the song that happened to be playing—“Let’s Go Crazy”—Steve headed for the bedroom, but not remotely in a straight line. He swayed, swooped, and spun, and when he was almost at the the door he tossed her a few feet upward. Nat whooped in delight. He caught her on the way down, then turned her body and lifted her by the hips, like a ballerina. Responding from her youthful training, she spread her arms into second position and pointed her toes.</p>
<p>“Good thing the ceilings are high,” she said with a laugh. Looking down at his smiling face, she added, “You’d make a mighty fine danseur, Rogers.”</p>
<p>“I don’t know how to dance and I’m too old, Romanov.”</p>
<p>“Given your attributes and how fast you train, you could catch up.”</p>
<p>He lowered her slowly, brushing her body against his all the way. He paused when their lips met and kissed her lingeringly, then brought her all the way to the floor. She was aroused, and astonished; one of the most sensual moves she’d experienced came at the hands of a man who was a virgin only months ago. In her fantasies, she’d always cast Steve as adorably awkward and hesitant their first time. This was not that.</p>
<p>Continuing to play, Natasha arched in a dramatic stretch, flinging an arm backward. Hand on her back, he lowered her until her head almost touched the floor. She laughed and he pulled her upright.</p>
<p>“Was the dancing sequence part of the seduction plan?” she asked teasingly.</p>
<p>“Honestly, no. Entirely spontaneous.”</p>
<p>She thought to ask if he’d ever practiced the move with Peggy, but quickly decided she didn’t care to know. He was here now, and that’s what mattered.</p>
<p>Natasha turned and pushed the door open. She led Steve by the hand into his bedroom. He shut the door behind them.</p>
<p>The blinds were closed. In addition to a small lamp at one bedside, a dozen candles lit the room, gently perfuming it and revealing handfuls of flower petals strewn across the dark blue coverlet. Her mouth dropped open.</p>
<p>“You sly devil.”</p>
<p>“I can honestly say, no one has ever before called me that.” He was pleased at her surprise, and proud of himself. It wasn’t easy to put one over on Natasha Romanov.</p>
<p>“Regard it as a compliment. But what if I’d taken you at face value and set a date for Saturday?”</p>
<p>“I’d have blown out the candles today and bought more flowers then. It was worth a shot, don’t you think?”</p>
<p>“Totally.”</p>
<p>Steve reached down to the low platform bed and flung back the covers, sending flower petals flying. “Sheets, clean.”</p>
<p>Natasha laughed out loud and he did too. Then he took her hand and set his other on her waist in a dancing pose. Faintly from the living room they could hear “Time after Time.” He led her in a few steps to the beat and swung her around, scattering fluttering petals across the bamboo floor.</p>
<p>“You said you couldn’t dance,” she said with faux outrage.</p>
<p>“This is all I know.”</p>
<p>Their twirl slowed to a stop. She tucked her head under his chin and they embraced tightly, listening to their beating hearts and the faraway music, reveling in the moment. Then he spoke softly into her ear. “May I help you with your dress?”</p>
<p>“Mm. Yes you may.”</p>
<p>Steve went down on one knee in front of her and took hold of the hem. As he slowly stood, he peeled it up bit by bit, revealing her slender, muscular body. She raised her hands above her head to accommodate getting the dress off.</p>
<p>“I surrender,” she said jokingly.</p>
<p>“After a long standoff,” he replied with a smile. He pulled the shift over her arms and tossed it aside on a chair.</p>
<p>“I’d have worn sexier lingerie had I known you’d be seeing my undies today.” Her bralette and matching panties were flattering but not flirty.</p>
<p>“No worries. Fancy drawers don’t do a thing for me. You do. Anyhow, I’ve seen your undies before.” Years of bunking in close quarters, changing clothes in Quinjets, and tending to one another’s wounds meant that he’d seen most of her body, a part at a time—and vice versa. But never so much at once, and never in a situation like this. He stared, stunned by her extraordinary beauty, and by the disappearance of all her scars.</p>
<p>Natasha drew close and began to undo his shirt buttons, but stopped. “You seem unsettled. Are you OK?” she asked.</p>
<p>“Yeah. You’re just so . . . smooth.”</p>
<p>She felt more underneath his statement, so she waited, looking up into his pensive face.</p>
<p>“There was a scar right here,” he said, touching an area below her collarbone. “Where I removed a splinter of shrapnel. It showed when you wore something low-cut. I hadn’t realized it was gone.”</p>
<p>She covered his hand with hers. “You did a great job suturing that one. Almost imperceptible. You miss it?”</p>
<p>“I’m ambivalent. Your skin is beautiful, but it’s like memories have been erased. You earned those scars, so it feels wrong to celebrate their being gone.”</p>
<p>“I get what you mean. I’m glad you didn’t mind those ‘flaws.’ War stories, embedded in my flesh. Now I’m more like you, every scar healed. We look as though we’ve never been injured, never fought a war.”</p>
<p>“It’s a reset, I suppose, from how we used to live. Starting clean.” He leaned down and kissed the place where the scar had been. “Sorry to derail. I’m not much good at this seduction business, huh?”</p>
<p>“You don’t have to be, but you’ve done a bang-up job so far. And I want us to be comfortable talking about anything.”</p>
<p>“Including love?”</p>
<p>“Especially love.”</p>
<p>Steve held her face in his hands, as he had at the top of the waterfall. She was thankful there was enough light to see the oceanic blue of his eyes as he regarded her intently.</p>
<p>“Natasha. I love you more than anything in this world. Or any other.” He felt he could lose himself in the endless depths of her green eyes, full of knowledge and compassion.</p>
<p>“I love you, too,” she responded, winding her arms around his waist. “I never want to let you go again.”</p>
<p>They kissed, and resolved to let one thing lead to another for the rest of the day, and the night.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Hey dear readers! You are hereby notified that Chapter 37 is rated Explicit. This will no doubt delight some of you, and annoy others who excluded E fics from their searches. Rest assured, those who wish to avoid frank depictions of sex can skip 37 and you won’t lose any plot. Just pretend it’s not there. Those of you who like frank descriptions of sex … well, I’ll do my best! Writing sex is hard, yo. There are quite a few writers at AO3 who do it very well; I was tempted just to put in a note, “Hey, between Chapter 36 and 37, go read Story X, lines 104-182, for some fine Romanogers sexytimes, then come back.” But, you know, copout. </p>
<p>So smut, here I come! Um, as it were. I’ll do my best to get it up (heh) next week. Until then, Happy Holidays to all who celebrate!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0037"><h2>37. Finally</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Natasha and Steve take the romance in their relationship to the next level. </p>
<p>Rating: Explicit<br/>Content note: one F bomb, explicit sex</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hey dear readers! This chapter and the next one are rated Explicit, even though I’ve put a rating of Mature on the work as a whole. I’ve done this because I don’t want to imply in the overall rating that there is a lot of explicit sex—only two of 38 chapters at this point. Didn’t seem accurate or helpful to plaster an E on it which would lead searchers who avoid smut to exclude this work. It also would attract those who like smut but then would be disappointed with the low sex quotient of the rest. “Non-Explicit” readers can rest assured you can safely skip 37 and 38. There’s character development but no plot advancement to speak of.</p>
<p>This is my first foray into writing sex for an audience. I invite critique in the comments. Stuff like “there was too much detail about getting naked” or “I liked the details about getting naked” or “not enough physical description” or “they talk too much” or "I really liked their conversation" or whatever. Thanks for reading and giving feedback if you’re so moved!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>After their kiss, Natasha resumed unbuttoning Steve’s plaid shirt. She got it open down to his waistband and commented, “No undershirt today?”</p>
<p>“Makes undressing easier, doesn’t it?” he replied.</p>
<p>“It certainly does,” she said, brushing her lips over a delectable spot of bare skin between his pecs. Another of many firsts for the day.</p>
<p>He smiled and reached around behind her back to unhook her bralette. “Shall I?” he asked in confirmation as he held the hook and eye.</p>
<p>“Please,” she answered, surprised at how expertly he was easing her out of her undergarments. Steve slid the bra off her arms, tossed it aside, and cupped a breast in each hand, still looking into her face.</p>
<p>“Like to have your nipples played with?” he asked softly.</p>
<p>“Sure. Well, not anything too painful. Why do you ask?”</p>
<p>“If you’re not into it, I could skip it and do something you prefer. I stand ready to serve.”</p>
<p>“Please forge ahead with whatever you’re inspired to do. If I have objections I’ll let you know.”</p>
<p>He bent down and took a nipple carefully into his mouth. As he ran his tongue slowly across it and felt it harden immediately, his desire surged. Natasha made a soft squeal of surprised pleasure. She grasped his arm and a handful of hair to support herself, which excited him further. He released her breast and covered it with his hand to keep it warm as he moved over to attend to the other.</p>
<p>When he finished and stood up, she pulled his shirt open wider, pressing herself tightly against him. She’d long craved the feeling of so much of his skin against hers.</p>
<p>Steve put his hands behind his back to unbutton his cuffs. “If you want to rip off the shirt, feel free,” he said, as though reading her mind.</p>
<p>“Tempting, but I don’t want to damage it. I have a lot of affection for the old thing.”</p>
<p>“I’ve noticed.”</p>
<p>While his arms were out of the way, she deftly undid his jeans and untucked his shirttail. He shrugged himself out of the shirt and dropped it. Natasha wasn’t yet treated to a full view of him topless, as he pulled her to him again and put his hands around her narrow waist.</p>
<p>He stroked around to the small of her back, then slipped both hands underneath her panties, pushing them aside while holding her bottom. Pausing a moment, he breathed deeply while appreciating the curvaceous flesh beneath his hands. “You don’t know how long I’ve wanted to do this,” he murmured against her neck. </p>
<p>“Maybe as long as I’ve wanted to do the same to you.”</p>
<p>Kissing the hollow of her throat, he slid his hands over to her hips and worked the panties far enough down so she could shimmy herself out of them. He cradled her derriere with one hand, and with the other covered her mons. Gently he slid his fingers between her legs. Parting her labia just a bit, he discovered how warm and wet she was. She shuddered, and he whispered, “I want to taste you. Before we—”</p>
<p>“Oh, um,” she stammered, blinking back to a semblance of normal awareness. “I’d love that, but I haven’t recently, you know, groomed for a gentleman caller, so I’m not sure you’d . . .” She ducked her head, embarrassed at bringing up the subject.</p>
<p>He lifted her chin in his hand so he could look her in the eye. “Don’t forget, I’m an old-fashioned guy,” he said with a wry smile. “I’m fine with au naturel. I’d say I prefer it, not that I’ve encountered anything else up close.”</p>
<p>“If you’re sure, then you’re welcome to. Just—” She hesitated and looked down again. This is going so well; don’t be demanding, she told herself.</p>
<p>“Please don’t stop,” he urged. “Tell me what you want.”</p>
<p>Natasha had talked sexy, and dirty, with many a man, but always to a purpose or for effect. It hadn’t been personal, but a performance. This conversation was honest and sincere, and therefore made her blush.</p>
<p>“Don’t get me wrong. I’m very much looking forward to you going down on me. But the first time I come with you, I want it to be . . . against you, on you. I want you in me.”</p>
<p>Steve watched her lush lips as she spoke, and he could have sworn his heart skipped a beat as he listened. Her words seemed to go straight to his sex. “Natasha, yes. That’s what I want. We’ve got hours, days, to please each other, in a dozen ways. But the first time, I want us as close as we can get.”</p>
<p>“Wouldn’t it be a good idea to have some, um, preliminary activities? So you’ll be better prepared for the main event.”</p>
<p>“I’m sure the preliminaries would be great, but I want my first time with you to be the same as yours. You’re already turned on, so I’m confident I won’t have a problem lasting long enough.”</p>
<p>“All right. Only enough oral to say hello, then?”</p>
<p>He chuckled. “Yeah, keep it to a polite introduction. Do we have a plan of action, Romanov?”</p>
<p>“Yes sir. Synchronize watches.”</p>
<p>They were laughing as they kissed again, hard, sloppily, exuberantly. Their hands roamed over each other’s bodies, exploring and stimulating. After a minute, Steve paused and said, “I believe I’m at a disadvantage. Regarding clothing.”</p>
<p>“Your nudity quotient is definitely lower than mine. You want me to help you out?”</p>
<p>“Exactly.”</p>
<p>Natasha lost no time in obliging. She pushed down his pants a few inches, then reached inside his trunks to release his erection. He moaned in relief, then felt a rush as freedom from constraint and the touch of his lover’s hands hardened him more. She turned her attention to getting him out of his snug jeans with no-nonsense vigor, finally kneeling to pull them off so she could fling them aside.</p>
<p>He looked down at her, and Nat looked up at him—all of him. She took a moment to savor her first view of Steve completely naked. Over the years she’d memorized the parts of him she’d seen exposed, and imagined what the rest might look like, assembling them into a fantasy whole. Now she was beholding the real thing, and he was more magnificent than she’d dreamed. Beautifully proportioned, with musculature strongly defined but not bulgingly overwrought, and taut, even-toned skin. His manhood was straight and thick, impressive in size but not so large as to be daunting. His nethers were even neatly groomed. He might have been made to order for her. Even though before they met she wouldn’t have called a man like him her type.</p>
<p>On her knees in front of him, she grasped in each hand the back of a firm thigh, then laid her tongue at the base of his cock. She licked slowly up, taking her time. She reached the tip and delicately took it in her mouth, wrapping one hand around the shaft. The other hand roamed up to his rounded ass as she pulled him to her.</p>
<p>At first Steve thought his knees would give way, but he summoned the strength to stay upright. He watched Natasha lavish him; the only thing better than seeing himself between her perfect lips was feeling it. He put his hands on her head and threaded his fingers into her hair as her tongue swirled and her hand stroked. Then she brought him further into her mouth and sucked exactly enough to send a thrill though him so hard he rocked on his feet.</p>
<p>It was the first time anyone had done this for him, and if things were going to go according to their plan he needed her to start doing something else very soon. “Ah, I think that’s enough . . . greeting for right now,” he gasped.</p>
<p>She smiled around him and released him with one more lick. Shifting her weight to her feet, she rose up so that her chest was at the level of his hips. She lifted a breast in each hand and pushed them together, enfolding him between them. As she slowly began to stand, they both enjoyed the friction, of his penis in her cleavage and of her nipples against his skin. She raised and lowered herself a few times, feeling her thigh and core muscles working. A fleeting thought came to her that strength training was useful for more than fighting.</p>
<p>“Another preview of coming attractions?” Steve asked, smoothing her lustrous auburn locks as she stood upright.</p>
<p>“Could be, if you’ve got lube,” Natasha replied.</p>
<p>“Not handy, but I think I have something we could use later.”</p>
<p>“All natural?”</p>
<p>“And organic. Produced exclusively for you.”</p>
<p>She laughed. “Lucky me.”</p>
<p>Cupping her breasts once more, he marveled at the creamy skin and their perfect blend of firm and yielding. There was a small birthmark on the side of the left one; he remembered a glimpse of it during a quick change on a mission years before. To his dazed mind, it seemed somehow like part of a secret code that he now had the key to. He kissed her again, feeling a heightened charge now that he knew for sure what else she could do with that mouth—and how much she seemed to like it.</p>
<p>“Mm, you taste different,” he said against her lips.</p>
<p>“Different from what?”</p>
<p>“From a few minutes ago.”</p>
<p>“Saltier?”</p>
<p>“Yeah.”</p>
<p>“That’s from you. You are overflowing, ready to go.”</p>
<p>“Oh. Well. Is it weird that I find tasting myself on you a turn-on?”</p>
<p>“<i>I</i> don’t think so.” Natasha smiled saucily, and he read in her eyes that it was a good time to try the reverse.</p>
<p>Steve knelt and caressed her thighs, urging them apart. She spread her legs enough so he could slide under her. He curved his long, broad torso to bring his head to just the right height. One arm circled around her hips, holding her securely, while he stroked her outer labia with his other hand, earning a ticklish “ooh.” His tongue struck gold almost immediately. As it brushed by her swollen clitoral hood, her sharp intake of breath confirmed he was where he wanted to be. She was even wetter than when he’d touched her before, and he found her savory taste deeply arousing. He’d read extensively about pheromones, but none of that was registering in his brain. He had only two impulses at the moment: to revel in her warm, sticky, quivering deliciousness, feel her swell tighter under his lips and tongue and fingers until he was rewarded with her pulsations and cries of pleasure; or to turn, lay her on the bed, and bury himself in that deliciousness until the same thing happened.</p>
<p>Natasha played with his hair as he licked and sucked at her nub and inner labia. His soft beard teased her tender skin. She was fading again into a surreal, altered state. Not only was Steve the most beautiful and graceful man she’d ever known, not only was she attuned to his touch and his presence, but he was also undeniably good at this and promised to be a spectacular lay just by skill alone. She wasn’t sure she could take it, after years of abstinence.</p>
<p>He worked two fingers inside her vagina and spread them, gently stretching the area just inside the entrance. She moaned and closed her eyes, then was jolted with a new thrill as his exploration found an especially sensitive place. Paying attention to her response, he tilted his head and went after the spot with his tongue. Her whole pelvic area tingled and grew warmer, heralding the first stages of an oncoming orgasm.</p>
<p>“Steve, that feels amazing, and you have to stop,” she said, almost breathless.</p>
<p>After a farewell suckle on her clit, he complied, then scooted out from under her and stood. Reaching under the nearest pillow on the bed, he withdrew a small towel, wiped down his face and beard, and tossed it aside.</p>
<p>“I’m ready to share,” Steve said, his voice pitched low, arms spread. Natasha stepped into them and held on tight, tantalized by his insistent erection between them. They had both broken a sheen of sweat, not from exertion but from excitement. He kissed her deeply and leisurely, resisting the urge to give in to a frenzy of lust. Though further aroused by her own taste and scent on him, she adopted his attitude of restraint, reaching around with both hands to trace, slowly and delicately, the fantastic curve of his ass. Her strokes increased in pressure, and he groaned faintly in pleasure. She rubbed her hands hard up his muscular back as far as she could reach, almost to his shoulders, and his groan intensified into a deep growl.</p>
<p>They paused to check in with each other. Nat saw that his lips were reddened and full, and his eyes dark with desire as he murmured, “What do you want me to do for you?”</p>
<p>Massaging the nape of his neck, she had a brief impulse to demand, “Throw me down on this bed and fuck me till I scream,” but she remembered his apprehension about hurting her. She was certain he could control himself, but she didn’t want him to have to hold back this time. He’d said she drove him crazy, and she very much wanted to see what that was like.</p>
<p>“Is it all right if I drive?” she asked.</p>
<p>“More than all right.”</p>
<p>“Lay yourself down for me, then.”</p>
<p>Steve brushed flower petals aside and did so. She knelt on the bed between his legs, scooping up a handful of petals that she flung over him. Propped up on his elbows, he laughed joyfully. Natasha drank in the stunning sight of him stretched out, candlelit, dappled with color. As his laughter trailed off, he looked at her perfectly shapely form poised above him as though she were the eighth wonder of the world.</p>
<p>“Relax,” she urged. “Lie back.”</p>
<p>“It’s hard not to be keyed up,” he said. “I’ve wanted this so much. For so long.”</p>
<p>“I know. Me too.”</p>
<p>She brought his legs together and straddled his thighs, then leaned forward and touched her lips to his flat belly. He lay down and gave himself over to her. She kissed her way up his abdomen and chest, with a few detours to blow flower petals away and to suckle his nipples harder. Everything she did aroused him more: her talented mouth, the long soft hair and full breasts brushing his skin, strong thighs against his legs and hips. When her back and shoulders moved within reach he caressed them, appreciating her toned muscles as she hovered over him.</p>
<p>When her mouth reached his collarbone she shifted her body and her focus. She watched his face as she drew her wet vulva slowly up his erection, from root to tip. His head pressed down into the pillow as the new sensation sparked a strangled cry. His hands reflexively dug into her shoulders to the point of pain.</p>
<p>Natasha sat upright on her knees so that he naturally let go of her, then took a wrist in each hand and leaned in to push them down on either side of his head, pinning him—as long as he allowed himself to be pinned. “Are you all right with that?” she asked softly. Steve nodded; he knew she was protecting them from his extraordinary strength, so he didn’t have to. She bent further and glided her tongue along his open lips, rolling her hips to tease them both just a little more.</p>
<p>She entwined her fingers with his, moved backward, and maintained eye contact as she sought the end of him. Holding his hands tightly, she sank down on his cock, opening to him inch by delicious inch, watching his eyes widen, as he watched hers. When he was virtually all the way in, she rocked her pelvis to change the angle, and he thrust upward. “Oh yes,” she cried out.</p>
<p>Natasha let go his hands and grasped his shoulders, bracing her arms. She ground down on him in a circular fashion, keeping him fully in her. Steve stroked her nipples with a feather-light touch, provoking a moan, then set his hands on her hips so he could follow on the outside the motion that was driving him wild on the inside.</p>
<p>She was so completely aroused that her body was sensitized, so she sat back to decrease stimulation of her clit so she wouldn’t come too soon. In that position she could feel even better how well he filled her, but all she wanted was more of him. She began to tighten her vaginal muscles in rhythm with her other motions, caressing him within. He was astounded. “Natasha, oh God, how do you . . . so good . . .”</p>
<p>It was clear this first session wasn’t going to take long, as years of repressed desire were set free into the moment. She shifted to thrusting him into her, and she gasped with unanticipated pleasure. Whether it was how turned on she was, how well they fit together, or some combination, the friction of their coupling was the best she’d ever had or could imagine. Every stroke brought them heightened sensation, a step closer to climax. Natasha interlaced their fingers again, leaned back further and spread herself so that he plunged deeper.</p>
<p>They adjusted to each other’s rhythm and moved in concert, rising and falling in perfect opposition. Her tingling warmth returned, and then a high, singing feeling centered in her sex but suffused through her whole lower body—familiar, but stronger than ever before. Sound grew muffled and her perception of the world around her changed; she saw nothing but her lover, felt nothing but their pleasure.</p>
<p>Suddenly and involuntarily, she started breathing twice as fast; soft panting cries arose from her throat. She reached the edge, and dove over it into the first waves of her climax. Her spine arched, her head threw back, and she called out in wordless ecstasy. It took several seconds for one syllable to form itself, all she could remember through the fireworks in her brain: “Steve!”</p>
<p>He had never witnessed anything like Natasha’s passion, never experienced anything like the intense pulsations crashing against him. When she called his name, something unleashed inside him. The pleasure of his body within hers and the sensation of imminent release were exquisite, and his mind clouded completely. For the moment she was his world. His last thrusts took both of them almost a foot off the bed as he fell from his own cliff, shouting with every breath, alternating incoherent cries with calling her name, pouring himself out into her.</p>
<p>She let go his hands and he slammed them down on the bed on either side, shaking the whole platform. Steve’s back bent and his head thrashed side to side. He came so hard she could feel inside her the strong pulsing at his root, which intensified the remaining waves of her orgasm. After half a minute or so she was down to aftershocks, as was he. For another minute the last tremors passed through her, becoming fewer and further between. He responded to each one with his own, and a groan of release.</p>
<p>Their bodies tingled as they panted, slowly regaining control. She lay down on his chest and listened to his heart rate slow, along with hers. He wrapped his arms loosely around her and felt the rise and fall of her breath. After a few minutes, they floated back into a semblance of normal consciousness. She lifted her head so she could look at him, and they regarded each other with amazement.</p>
<p>Steve dug towels from under the pillows and they used them as needed. Natasha lay next to him and he turned to face her. He was light-headed, and impulsively kissed her forehead.</p>
<p>“It’s like my brain is filled with fizz,” she said.</p>
<p>“I’m feeling . . . awestruck.”</p>
<p>She stroked his neck, his heartbeat thrumming under her hand. “It <i>was</i> rather nice,” she said in a neutral tone.</p>
<p>“Nice? Just nice?” he asked incredulously.</p>
<p>“OK, maybe a couple notches above nice,” she said, trying not to crack a smile.</p>
<p>“What could possibly make it better?”</p>
<p>“More of it,” she answered huskily, and finally grinned.</p>
<p>“Give me five minutes and we’ll see about that.”</p>
<p>Natasha’s eyebrows rose. “Five minutes? Your physiology is like forty years old at this point.”</p>
<p>“Thank the serum for quick recovery.”</p>
<p>“Oh. I didn’t know it worked for that, but I guess it makes sense. What about after the second time?”</p>
<p>“Same deal. And the third, for that matter.”</p>
<p>“So you can recharge in a few minutes, multiple times. How long can you keep this up?”</p>
<p>“You’re messing with me,” he accused.</p>
<p>“What do you mean?” she asked, bewildered.</p>
<p>“Come on. You know what I’m going to say,” he replied with a half-smile.</p>
<p>She chuckled as she figured out what he was getting at. “Probably. But I’d love to hear you say it.”</p>
<p>Steve craned his neck forward and touched the tip of his nose to hers. “I can do this all day.”</p>
<p>They giggled and he lay back down. She snuggled closer as he encircled her with one long arm, and both of them sighed in satisfaction.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0038"><h2>38. Level Up</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Steve and Natasha learn more about each other, sexually and otherwise.</p>
<p>Rating: Explicit<br/>Content note: multiple F bombs, two C bombs, explicit sex</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Wow, this turned out to be a long one. (That’s what she said! &lt; rim shot &gt;.)</p>
<p>Another warning that this chapter is rated Explicit, even though I’ve put a rating of Mature on the work as a whole. Please see the beginning note for Chapter 37 for more explanation if you need it. </p>
<p>I again invite critique of the sex writing, which I’m a novice at. Stuff like “not enough physical description,”  “too much physical description,” “they talk too much,” "I really liked their conversation,” “be more blunt,” “be less blunt” or whatever. Thanks for reading and giving feedback if you’re so moved!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Seriously, what’s your ceiling for number of times in a row?” Natasha asked Steve as they relaxed in his bed. This may be the epitome of pillow talk, she thought.</p>
<p>“I don’t know, actually.”</p>
<p>“Never went on an autoerotic marathon to find out?”</p>
<p>“No. That would’ve seemed pathetic. Dismal. Pointless.”</p>
<p>“What about your honeymoon?”</p>
<p>“She took a week off work and we stayed home, but we didn’t push ourselves. We’d go for an hour or two in an evening, four or five times. Then she’d get tired and we’d sleep. Or if we started early, we’d stop for meals, talk, play cards, whatever. So we’d end up with many more—episodes, sessions?—but over a longer time.”</p>
<p>“Every day, for seven days?”</p>
<p>“Nine.”</p>
<p>He seemed diffident about his ability, though surely he knew such stamina was prized. Because of his reluctance to discuss it, Natasha toned down the enthusiastic response she might have given. “I guess we’ll just call it ’plenty.’ Lucky me,” she said.</p>
<p>“I’m feeling lucky too.” He caressed her face and smiled blissfully. “Now I can die happy.”</p>
<p>“Good Lord, Steve,” she said, grabbing his hand. “Promise me you won’t die. Not anytime soon.”</p>
<p>“I’ll do my best. You said it’s not that bad, though.”</p>
<p>“It isn’t, but I’m feeling selfish. Now that I have you, I want a future with you.”</p>
<p>“Well, neither of us is courting death on a regular basis anymore,” said Steve. “Maybe we can keep each other. And keep each other happy.”</p>
<p>Natasha brought his hand near her heart and held it tightly. “I hope so. I love you, lucky man.”</p>
<p>“I love you too, lucky woman.”</p>
<p>“Today is a first for me,” she said quietly. “The first time I’ve had sex with someone I’m really in love with.”</p>
<p>“Wow. With my limited romantic history, I’ve never had sex with someone I <i>wasn’t</i> in love with. Did it meet your expectations?”</p>
<p>“Blew past them. To another level.” She looked deep into his eyes. “What it’s supposed to be like, I think.”</p>
<p>“Making love? Not just having sex.”</p>
<p>“I’d assumed ‘lovemaking’ was sweet, slow, and sappy. Who knew it could be hard and hot, too?”</p>
<p>“You’re amazing, and it was marvelous. Like you said, beyond what I’d imagined. But hey, don’t knock slow and sweet till you try it.” He stretched, tensing and relaxing his long legs, and looked up at the ceiling. “Today marked a different first for me.”</p>
<p>“No condom?”</p>
<p>Steve laughed. “That too; I didn’t think of it. Absolutely a plus. But I was referring to, um, the oral activities.”</p>
<p>“Don’t try to tell me that was the first time for you. You are way too good at it.”</p>
<p>“I read up on it—the internet is nothing if not a font of sexual information. And I do pay attention in the moment. I meant the other way around though.”</p>
<p>“Really? Never? Why not?”</p>
<p>“She regarded it as degrading, to whoever was giving, and kind of . . . icky. Dunno if it was a personal thing, or cultural, or what.” Steve paused as he decided how much he should share. “She refused to do it herself, and wasn’t happy with my doing it, even though it clearly felt good.”</p>
<p>“That’s too bad. For both of you.”</p>
<p>“I persuaded her to let me try a few times. She was enthusiastic for other things, so I stopped asking for that—she didn’t want to even talk about it. Maybe over time I could have changed her mind, but I wasn’t there long enough.”</p>
<p>“I’ve got a list in mind of what I plan to do with you,” Natasha said in a sultry voice. “I just added ‘do it slow and sweet.’ But I’ll move ‘give Steve head’ higher up.”</p>
<p>“Must be a long list. We both have at least ten years of deprivation to make up for.”</p>
<p>“Hey, I win the celibacy contest. You were getting laid regularly up until a month ago.”</p>
<p>His face softened and he squeezed her hand. “True. I’m sorry you had to be lonely even longer than me. I was worried today would be a letdown for you, after waiting so long.”</p>
<p>“Told you it wouldn’t, loverboy. I’m eager for more.”</p>
<p>“Then let’s get going, shall we?” Steve shifted closer, leaning over to nuzzle her neck, and his erection nudged her leg.</p>
<p>“Damn, my dude, you weren’t kidding,” Natasha said, taking hold of his penis, which hardened further as she played with it. “You ready for me to suck you off? The full monty?”</p>
<p>“I . . . I think you short-circuited my brain, between what you’re doing and what you said.”</p>
<p>“Sorry.” She stopped touching him for the moment. “Focus.”</p>
<p>“As wonderful as that will be, I’m craving something else. I want you to let go, just feel and respond, while I drive. Though I would request that at some point you wrap your legs around me. It’s something I’ve fantasized about. Just please don’t hurt me.”</p>
<p>“I’m not strong enough to hurt you like that, tough guy. But I’ll be careful.”</p>
<p>“I will too. Tell me what you want to get you ready.”</p>
<p>“I’ve stayed ready. Go for it.”</p>
<p>In a matter of moments Steve hovered over her, holding himself up with one arm. He palmed a nipple, kissed her deeply, and used his legs to spread hers as he positioned himself between them. His grace, skill, and urgent desire fanned Natasha’s flame into a full burn. When he left off kissing her mouth so he could move up into her, she positioned her hips to meet him. He readily found her entrance and penetrated; she was wet but still had enough resistance to heighten the sensation. Their moans of pleasure mingled as he buried himself almost to the hilt.</p>
<p>He moved with finesse around inside her, as well as in and out, testing different angles and movements. Looking down at her face, he watched her expression and felt the response of her body, adjusting to what she preferred. He was about to shift again when she gripped his forearms, planted her feet, and ground herself up against him, intensifying the sensation of his thick cock on her most receptive areas. Each time he drew out, she tightened on him, then relaxed to let him plunge further in.</p>
<p>“You’re supposed, to be enjoying, not doing, so much work,” Steve said between thrusts.</p>
<p>“You want me to stop?” Natasha responded in a husky growl.</p>
<p>“No, but whoa . . . this feels way too good.”</p>
<p>“Feels good to me too, and I want more.”</p>
<p>He sat up so that he could massage her clit with the ball of his thumb while maintaining pelvic motion, which made her squirm and squeal with excited pleasure. He fondled her nipples more firmly now that he could feel her swelling around him. She was close to the edge and could take stronger stimulation.</p>
<p>“Harder,” she panted. He knew which motion she meant, complied as directed, and kept on doing it.</p>
<p>A little later, she clutched at him and called out, “Steve, please—more, now!” He pitched forward and braced himself on the bed, fucking her as hard as she begged for; she was past the point of return and delicacy was no longer enough. Natasha rocked her hips back and locked her legs around his narrow waist, to his delight. Her hands took hold of his thighs, pulling him into her desperately. Her head came up off the pillow and fell back as she moaned “Oh yes” and surrendered to his power.</p>
<p>As incredible as she felt undulating beneath him, enveloping him as he drove toward climax, he remembered to watch her face for signs of pain. He saw only rapture as her eyes closed and she thrashed and bucked as he slammed into her until she took every bit of him inside. She shouted as she climaxed, seizing his biceps and digging her fingers into them. Her extremity of passion pulled him off the peak of his pleasure into mutual orgasm. His cries briefly drowned out hers, and he barely maintained control of his strength as he unleashed himself, complying with her frenzied demands for more.</p>
<p>They coasted down together, their waves concurrent then alternating, gradually slowing. Steve reached inside her for every last surge he could stimulate, as she let go of his arms and flung hers wide in abandon. As they finished, Natasha embraced him and he settled closer atop her, careful not to weigh her down. He felt himself finally soften, and commenced cleanup for them both.</p>
<p>After, he remained above her, looking into her gleaming eyes and languid face. “Is deep kissing all right afterward?” he asked softly. “Or only in foreplay?”</p>
<p>“Before, during, after sex,” she said dreamily. “On top of a waterfall, in the middle of a meeting, walking down the street. Anytime you want to kiss me, darlin’, you do that thing.”</p>
<p>“Let’s do that thing right now.” His love for her filled him to overflowing, beyond the intense sexual experience they’d just had, and the best way he could imagine to express it was to kiss her breathless again.</p>
<p>“Mm, you’re delicious,” Natasha said when they stopped. “I think I came so long it must have been dozens of—not sure what to call them—hits, spasms, waves. More than ever before, that I can remember.”</p>
<p>“You’ve kept it together enough to count?” Steve asked, surprised.</p>
<p>“Sometimes I have. Even though there’s no such thing as a bad orgasm, some are more involving than others.”</p>
<p>“You have a sliding scale?”</p>
<p>“From ‘Eh, I can think about other things while it’s happening’ to ’That was yummy’ up to ‘Mind completely blown.’ Definitely on the latter end today.”</p>
<p>“Same here,” Steve agreed. “I may have had a seizure.”</p>
<p>“Oh stop, you did not. But I know what you mean.”</p>
<p>“We’ve both been noisy about it. I’m glad we have privacy.”</p>
<p>“Definitely. I feel safe. Comfortable enough to let go.”</p>
<p>He’d wondered how to check on her physical well-being without seeming obsessively cautious, and her comment gave him an opening. “I’m glad you feel that way. It got wild at the end. I hope we don’t have any injuries.”</p>
<p>Natasha considered claiming she was perfectly fine, but decided to go with honesty. “I won’t guarantee that there aren’t any bruises or that I won’t be sore later. But at no point did I think ‘Ow, this hurts’ or ‘That’ll leave a mark.’” She lifted her head and peered at his upper arm. “I may have bruised you, however. My nails are short so I doubt I broke the skin.”</p>
<p>He raised an arm and examined it. “No welts. If any do form they’ll be gone in a few hours.”</p>
<p>“I assumed you would bottom out, but there wasn’t any pain. You felt so good in me. I’ve been thoroughly turned on and relaxed, so . . .”</p>
<p>“Yeah, that helps a lot. I don’t think it happened, although to be honest I was out of my mind and maybe didn’t notice.” He leaned his forehead on hers. “Are you sure you’re OK?”</p>
<p>“I’m sure. Everything you did both times was within my comfort zone, and you can tell how much I enjoyed it,” she said. “Speaking of which, you’ve been holding yourself up for awhile now. Aren’t you uncomfortable?”</p>
<p>“Not particularly. I’ll lie down if it makes you feel better.” He settled on his side next to her and they closed their eyes to rest, almost humming with contentment.</p>
<p>After a few minutes, Steve broke the intimate silence. “I hope you’re not bored. Let me know when you’re ready to get frisky again. I don’t want you to think I’m a one-and-done kind of guy.”</p>
<p>“What? You’re like the opposite of that guy.”</p>
<p>“I mean you’ve only had one, um, orgasm each time,” he said hesitantly. He felt awkward talking so frankly about sex, but he thought openness between them was important. She obviously had no problem with it. “Now that we’re on act three, I’ll be able to control myself more and do better.”</p>
<p>Natasha stared at him. What had she possibly done to deserve this man? “I’m not sure I can handle any ‘better’ than what we’ve had, but I’m willing to try. I can do better too. When do I give you your first real blowjob?”</p>
<p>“Let me check my calendar—oh wait, how about today?” he said. “What do you mean by ‘real’?”</p>
<p>“Not switching over to something else before the finale. Soup to nuts. Or nuts to soup.”</p>
<p>“The only caveat is the, uh, mess. Sure you want to deal with it?”</p>
<p>“You <i>are</i> a juicy boy,” she conceded. “We could do it in the shower. I’m betting you haven’t tried that.”</p>
<p>“You’d be right,” Steve agreed. “I’m game. If you don’t mind getting your hair wet.”</p>
<p>“You can wash it for me when we’re done.”</p>
<p>“Be more than happy to. Before that, we could . . .” He trailed off with a sly smile.</p>
<p>“What’s on your mind?”</p>
<p>“I have ideas and I’m trying to think of a genteel way to describe them.”</p>
<p>“Do naughty instead. I like a man who can talk <i>very</i> naughty to me.” Nat’s eyes sparkled with anticipation; she seemed to be daring him.</p>
<p>Steve took a deep breath. You can do this, he told himself. You have to broaden your horizons if you want to keep up with her. “Stroke me to get me hard, and suck me until I come all over . . .” he managed to blurt before trailing off.</p>
<p>Her eyes widened and he felt her energy increase, like he’d turned up a dimmer switch. “Go on,” she said, and bit her lower lip. “Suck your what, and come all over what?”</p>
<p>What sorts of things did people say? “My big throbbing rod? All over your, uh, face. But only if that’s OK with you. I’ve read that if it gets in your eyes—”</p>
<p>“Shush,” she interrupted, giggling. “You’re not supposed to mix rank indecency with thoughtful concern.”</p>
<p>“All right. But I don’t want you to think I’m demanding any of this stuff.”</p>
<p>“It’s dirty talk, not an action plan. You don’t have to be exact, just provocative. Come on.”</p>
<p>He was blushing and there was a look of dismay in his eyes. Natasha knew it was not to her credit that she got a kick out of seeing Steve ill at ease. Because he was usually so well-spoken, hypercompetent, and self-possessed, it was oddly satisfying when he was disconcerted. But it was clearly not so pleasant for him.</p>
<p>“Then we soap up, and slip and slide our bodies against each other, all over,” he added more confidently.</p>
<p>“Sexy, but clean. Step it up.” She reached out and walked two fingers slowly across his abs and chest as he spoke. She really should be less of a brat about teasing him. He was hard to wound physically, but emotionally might be another story.</p>
<p>His usually resonant voice sounded strained. “I rinse you off and, um, eat your pussy until you’re dripping. I stand and lift you, hold you up in front of me so I can fuck you from behind, and finger your, uh, clit, and then . . .” He faltered, and was sweating again.</p>
<p>“From behind? In the ass or cunt?” she asked, pronouncing the words crisply.</p>
<p>She could barely hear him as he muttered, “Cunt.”</p>
<p>Tickling his throat below his beard, she let him off the hook. “That was great,” she told him. “It’s hot hearing such filth come out of that wholesome Captain America mouth.”</p>
<p>Steve’s face fell and his eyes flashed for an instant before he recovered a neutral expression, but Nat caught it. She’d gone too far.</p>
<p>“You didn’t like that,” she said.</p>
<p>“It’s nothing,” he said flatly. She felt him recede and close himself in. She withdrew her hand; he hadn’t moved at all but somehow it felt like he’d brushed it off. His eyes looked away.</p>
<p>What was wrong with her? They were having a spectacular time, discovering how compatible they were, taking their relationship to another level, and not just a sexual one. And she had to go and screw it up, torment the best man she’d ever known, all for a moment of perverse fun. Her inner demons, the damaged behavior she’d always feared to inflict on him—was all that surfacing again already?</p>
<p>Don’t freak out and beat yourself up, Natasha thought. You know what the right thing is; do that instead.</p>
<p>“Steve. I’m so sorry I made you uncomfortable. I shouldn’t have. Please tell me how I can make it right.”</p>
<p>I wish she’d just leave me alone so I can get over it, Steve thought. He was annoyed, but the incident wasn’t important in the grand scheme of things, and explaining would embarrass him further. But then he looked at Nat and saw how remorseful she was. He decided he should say something, even if it was hard.</p>
<p>“The dirty talk thing,” he began. “It doesn’t come naturally to me. Because of the way I was raised, and how I’ve lived my life. I’m not opposed to trying, if you like it, but there’s a learning curve.”</p>
<p>“I know. I was wrong to push you.”</p>
<p>“What got to me more was . . . Can we not use the C-word, especially in bed?”</p>
<p>“Oh. Is it too nasty for you?”</p>
<p>“Kinda, but that wasn’t the word I was talking about. Term, actually.”</p>
<p>Natasha blinked at him a moment, then understood. “You don’t want me to bring up Aptain-cay America-yay.”</p>
<p>“Right. I want to be just me. Not that guy.”</p>
<p>“You don’t have to do the job anymore, but why do you want to shed the identity completely? You created it. It’s part of you, and it’s great.”</p>
<p>Steve closed his eyes briefly, took a breath, and said earnestly, “I want to talk about this, but later. It’s complicated, so I need to sort out my thoughts and feelings. Today let’s concentrate on having a good time, and getting to know each other in a new way.”</p>
<p>“I’m upset I threw a wrench into the works,” she said morosely. “Is there anything I can do right now to help?”</p>
<p>“You apologized, and made sure I wasn’t stewing in resentment or anything. If you could please avoid Aptain-cay America-yay, that’s all I ask at the moment.”</p>
<p>“And maybe unt-cay?”</p>
<p>“That would be nice,” he confirmed.</p>
<p>“I’ll do my best.”</p>
<p>They cuddled for a few minutes, and as they relaxed their troubled mood evaporated and playfulness returned. Natasha sat up and stretched her arms and back. “This might be a good time to run to my apartment for shampoo and stuff. Plus a change of clothes for tomorrow.”</p>
<p>“Or Monday morning,” Steve said, tickling an underboob with one finger.</p>
<p>She was starting to giggle, but paused in surprise. “Three days from now?”</p>
<p>“If you really want to test limits.”</p>
<p>“That sounds somewhere between epic and painful.”</p>
<p>“Probably epically painful. Personally, I’d prefer not to be goal-oriented. Stay in bed when we feel like it, do other things when they seem like fun.” Steve remembered something. “Isn’t your party with Okoye and the dangerous women’s club coming up?”</p>
<p>“Sunday afternoon. Should I see if they’ll put it off to next weekend?” Nat realized what he’d said. “Wait, who’s calling it that?”</p>
<p>“Me. I mean, damn: you, Okoye, Tumeli, and Desta Mutombo. If you four get rowdy when you’re liquored up, could be sheer mayhem.”</p>
<p>“It’s a formidable lineup, I admit,” she said with a smirk. “They might have to call Black Panther and his mysterious new sidekick Holden to quell the riot.”</p>
<p>“Baby, I’ll quell your riot anytime,” he said, wiggling his eyebrows.</p>
<p>She laughed. “That was good.”</p>
<p>“See? I’m better at double entendre and silliness than raunch.”</p>
<p>“It’s a start. Aren’t you supposed to spar with T’Challa tomorrow?”</p>
<p>“Yes, but I can ask him to reschedule.”</p>
<p>“Maybe we should just keep our appointments and have mind-blowing sex in between,” Natasha suggested.</p>
<p>“Sounds excellent. You want to come along, be on my team in the sparring match?”</p>
<p>“Ooh, alternating fighting and fucking sounds like my kind of weekend. We have Saturday free, right?”</p>
<p>“Mine is. I postponed a Saturday bazaar field trip with N’Talia.” The reference to language lessons prompted a question in Steve’s mind, and in their now-bubbly mood he gave in to curiosity. “Hey, can I ask you something? I noticed you speak English in bed, no matter what’s going on. Don’t you ever revert to your native language when, uh, your brain is fizzy?”</p>
<p>Natasha looked away for a second, and her brow furrowed a little. “I never use Russian in intimate moments. I think it’s because my subconscious associates my first language with my early sexual experiences. All of those had issues around consent or fear, or were screwed up in some other way. Almost all my non-problematic sex has been with people who spoke something else.” Her face was tense.</p>
<p>“I shouldn’t have brought it up. I wasn’t thinking.” Steve sat up to smooth the worry lines from her forehead and brush her lips with his. He chided himself. They’d gotten through one conflict and now he’d introduced a different kind of downer.</p>
<p>“It’s fine,” she assured him. “I want us to be able to talk about anything, even the tough stuff.”</p>
<p>“I do too. But there’s a time and a place, and this isn’t it. I’m sorry.”</p>
<p>“It’s all right, Steve.” She regarded his face, full of caring and concern for her, and felt an unfamiliar emotion intensify within. “You make everything all right. With your love.”</p>
<p>He saw tears welling in her eyes and it tore at his heart. “You’re crying. What can I do—”</p>
<p>“I’m not sad, just moved. This level of intimacy and tenderness is making me cry. I’m not used to it yet.”</p>
<p>From her expression, he could see she was being honest, even as a tear trickled down her cheek.</p>
<p>“I’ve never, ever, had anything this good before,” Natasha said. “And I’m going to try very, very hard not to sabotage it. I’m thankful to have someone I trust completely and can tell anything to, even hard truths. Someone who’ll take the bad and the good of me, the pain and the love. Someone I don’t have to perform for, or pretend for. Who I know loves me as much as life.”</p>
<p>He embraced the emotion. “We’ve been down a long and twisted road to get here,” Steve said. “I’m thankful I made it to you, against all odds. And that you want to be with me.”</p>
<p>“I can’t imagine ever not wanting you. Especially not after today.”</p>
<p>“I’ll do whatever it takes to keep you safe, and us together. As long as I can.”</p>
<p>He cradled her in his arms, and they practiced keeping each other happy.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0039"><h2>39. Spar at Joe's</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Natasha and Steve have their first morning after, then they and T’Challa repair to a local gym to spar with some of Wakanda’s security pros. Steve makes the proprietor uneasy.</p>
<p>Rating: Mature<br/>Sexual situations and innuendo, one F-bomb</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Natasha awoke and immediately tensed, even before she opened her eyes. Her startled mind raced to catch up to the danger her body perceived: someone was touching her, here in her very bed. She was lying on her right side and a hand rested on her bare hip, under the sheet—the intruder was behind her and incredibly bold. She tamped down her reflex to strike as she gathered information about the bizarre situation. Opening her eyelids a sliver, she saw she was not in her apartment.</p>
<p>Her brain cleared of its sleepy fog and memory flooded back. She let out the breath she’d been holding and gave thanks that she had stifled her violent impulse. Even Steve Rogers might sustain significant injury from a sudden, desperate jab to the eyes.</p>
<p>“You OK now?” Steve said quietly behind her, gently patting her hip.</p>
<p>“Yeah. Good thing you were already awake. I didn’t remember where I was for a second there and I was about to wail on you.”</p>
<p>“I woke up right after you did—your threat reaction was so strong it was like a silent alarm went off.”</p>
<p>Nat remembered a time they were bunking together in a fleabag on the outskirts of Kuala Lumpur. Steve on watch had seen a suspicious movement outside. He hadn’t yet moved or made a sound when she’d awakened fully alert. Sometimes the tie between them was spooky.</p>
<p>“Sorry about that. At least you would’ve had a chance to defend yourself.”</p>
<p>“S’all right. Been a long time since you’ve slept this close to anybody, huh?”</p>
<p>“Yep. The last time was probably with you, on some op or another.”</p>
<p>“In the days of no touching. This is much better.”</p>
<p>She turned over to face him. “An awkward good morning to you, handsome.”</p>
<p>Steve smiled and smoothed a strand of hair away from her face. “Back atcha. It definitely could have been worse. Any morning we wake up together is good, though.”</p>
<p>“Dude, any morning we wake up at all is good. Together is great. And let me be the first today to say ‘I love you.’” Natasha reached out and wiggled the end of his nose with one finger.</p>
<p>“I love you too. Boop,” he said as he touched her nose in turn. “Are we really going to be like this?”</p>
<p>“Sappy as fuck. You better believe it.”</p>
<p>He laughed. “You, my darling, are endlessly surprising. And incredibly lovely. And you smell wonderful and taste great.” He leaned in and nuzzled her hair, then moved her braid aside and mimed munching on her ear. “Nom nom.”</p>
<p>She giggled uproariously as he slurped noisily on her neck. “Gah, that tickles!” He backed off and watched her laugh, with a contented smile on his face. This first awakening was sweet, and he was torn between hoping he would always cherish the memory of the moment, and hoping there would be so many more like it that he’d have no need to.</p>
<p>“Who’d have thought you could be so silly?” Natasha said, petting his beard.</p>
<p>“Apparently you’ve unleashed my inner flibbertigibbet.”</p>
<p>“What the hell kind of word is flibbertigibbet?”</p>
<p>“One that was popular when I was growing up, whippersnapper.”</p>
<p>“At least you don’t always act like an old man.” She snuggled up and he put his arms around her.</p>
<p>Nat felt remarkably different than she had the day before. Their relationship had taken on a whole new dimension weeks ago when they’d revealed—or confirmed—their deepest feelings for each other. Adding the physical aspect yesterday was a step, but she hadn’t imagined it would be such a significant change for her. Steve’s elevated mood wasn’t a surprise; in his experience sex and love were intertwined. But for her they had never been, at all. She wasn’t sure why, or how, her enchantment with him had deepened so much, in less than a day. Maybe it could be chalked up to psychology—relief and joy at a satisfying sexual connection after a decade of abstinence. But she hadn’t thought she was in bad shape mentally. Or maybe it was due to an exchange of neurochemicals, a flood of hormones, straight up magic?</p>
<p>Whatever the cause, she felt great, if somewhat bemused. She’d always rolled her eyes at giddy new lovers, but today she understood how they felt.</p>
<p>“What time is the sparty we’re going to?” she asked with a sigh.</p>
<p>“You mean sparring party?”</p>
<p>“Yup.”</p>
<p>“We’re supposed to meet in the courtyard at 1300 and jog over to the gym.”</p>
<p>“We don’t have to spend time on a shower; we had one last night and we’ll need one this evening.” She remembered with a frisson how Steve had, after their energetic in-shower activities, thoroughly washed and towel-dried her hair, carefully combed out the tangles, and braided it. To her surprise, he loved doing it. To her delight, he was good at it.</p>
<p>She sat up and took the band off the end of her braid.</p>
<p>“Here, let me help,” he said, sitting up as well. He undid the braid, fluffed out her hair, and massaged her scalp as they talked.</p>
<p>“Leftovers for lunch, right?” Natasha asked. “We’ll want to eat light.”</p>
<p>“Sure, we can finish the goat.”</p>
<p>“That sounds like a euphemism.”</p>
<p>“You think everything sounds like a sexy euphemism.”</p>
<p>“Pretty much anything <i>can</i> be a sexy euphemism, if you have enough imagination.”</p>
<p>“We both have quite a bit of that. What do you say we find a creative way to need another shower before we go out?”</p>
<p>“I like the way you think. We have over an hour to kill before lunch. And then you can rebraid my hair.”</p>
<p>“I’ll see if I can remember how to make a Dutch braid. It’s more complicated than the French.”</p>
<p>“How come you never offered to do this when we were in the field together?”</p>
<p>“For one thing, I find your soft beautiful hair too stimulating. Same reason I wasn’t offering to give you back rubs. For another, I didn’t actually learn good techniques until Peg—until the past year.”</p>
<p>“Ah.” She refrained from asking which head of hair he preferred. It would be stupid to act jealous of a woman who was far away in the farthest way possible.</p>
<p>“I’d better get moving.” Natasha bounded out of bed and stretched. She found herself a little sore but nothing of concern.</p>
<p>“Mm, free show,” Steve said, regarding her lithe naked form appreciatively.</p>
<p>“Turnabout is fair play,” she said, whisking the sheet off him to give herself an eyeful too.</p>
<p>He laughed and scooted over to sit on the edge of the bed. He reached out for her hand and held it a moment, looking up adoringly into her face.</p>
<p>“You know people are going to be able to tell something new is going on between us. We won’t get through the afternoon without making goo-goo eyes at each other,” Natasha predicted.</p>
<p>“Probably not. Do you care?”</p>
<p>“I shouldn’t, but I’m used to hiding what I feel, especially about you. It’s unnerving to let people see I’m in love.”</p>
<p>“I get it. I’ve always been serious and even-keeled, and people expect it,” Steve said, putting on the stern face seen in many a photograph. “Not head over heels for my partner who’s now my lover.”</p>
<p>“But if we let the cat out of the bag, people won’t be surprised. I don’t believe they’ll think less of us, either.”</p>
<p>“On the contrary, they’ll be happy. Especially T’Challa. He keeps asking how you and I are doing.”</p>
<p>“You think he’s been rooting for us to go all the way?”</p>
<p>“I think if we weren’t already together he’d be matchmaking us.”</p>
<p>“That match has done been made.”</p>
<p>“Yes.” Steve kissed the hand he was holding, then looked up at her silently. At first he just smiled, a relaxed, joyful grin that made Natasha’s heart skip a beat. The smile faded into another expression, neither stern nor silly, somewhere between awe and lust.</p>
<p>“Let me go do a few morning ablutions,” Nat said, “and I’ll be right back to help you polish the goat, or whatever we’re calling it today.”</p>
<p>* * *</p>
<p>In the employee eatery on the first floor of the palace, Desta Mutombo and Dambu waved a tall, beefy soldier over to their table. N’Bema, who served with Dambu in the King’s Guard, had been two years younger than his colleague before the Snap; now the gap was seven. N’Bema’s head was shaved and bore a discreet blue tattoo of stylized sun’s rays above each ear, a mark of one of the Mining Tribe clans. He sat down with a bowl of chickpea soup and stack of folded injeera.</p>
<p>The three exchanged greetings and discussed N’Bema’s six-week assignment in neighboring Kenya. Then Dambu got down to business. “Do you want to join us and the king at Joe’s after lunch?” he asked. “His highness told us we could bring a third fighter. He’ll mostly be sparring with the visitors Holden and Sheen, but we’ll all have a go.”</p>
<p>“The security consultants?” responded N’Bema. “It’s entertaining to fight Black Panther, though we always lose, but it’s less interesting to just watch. He wins too easily. You think the new guy can go more than one round with him?”</p>
<p>Desta cocked her head. “You haven’t been read into the confidential background of visitors 7H and 7S?”</p>
<p>“I know the cover names and basics only, from the executive summary. I got back from Nairobi last night and I haven’t caught up on all the reading yet.” He patted his phone sitting on the table. “In my in-box.”</p>
<p>She clucked her tongue at him. “What if you’d run into one of them on the secure floors without knowing the full situation? Some Guardsman you are.”</p>
<p>He chuckled. “This is the first place I’ve set foot in the palace this morning, and apparently the two of you will tell me all about it. So is he a martial arts champion or something? Still unlikely to give his highness a challenge.”</p>
<p>Desta raised an eyebrow at Dambu, giving him leave to make the reveal. Dambu looked around to make sure no one was within earshot. “It’s Steve Rogers,” he said in a stage whisper with a note of excitement.</p>
<p>N’Bema bit off another piece of bread. “So, some American named Steve Rogers,” he said, mouth full. “Common name. There must be thousands. What’s this one’s claim to fame?”</p>
<p>Desta shushed the soldier, then emphasized, “Not a random guy. It’s <i>him</i>.”</p>
<p>Stunned, N’Bema stopped chewing, then swallowed hastily. “That’s impossible. Cap went off to another time and got old. It’s been all over the news.”</p>
<p>“No, he’s here,” she insisted. “And switch to his cover name. You’re so sloppy.”</p>
<p>“He’s the same age he was when he left, too. I had an extensive conversation with him last month,” Dambu pointed out with relish. “Took him and his partner out to the reserve.”</p>
<p>“No way!” exclaimed N’Bema.</p>
<p>“He wore a facial nanomask but it was easy to tell if you already knew him. He moves and stands the same, sounds the same. He remembered me from five years ago, called me by name,” Dambu said, trying to keep a note of pride out of his voice and failing.</p>
<p>“Why’s he here?”</p>
<p>“That isn’t in the briefing,” Desta said. “Officially he’s a WDG consultant, but as to why . . . Seems he’s mostly hiding out, though probably T’Challa knows for sure. I have some speculations but those I should keep under wraps for the time being.”</p>
<p>“War Dogs are so frustrating,” N’Bema groused. “You always know more than you’ll spill.”</p>
<p>“You should come and see for yourself,” Dambu urged.</p>
<p>“Now you can’t keep me away. I’d pay good money to see Cap—uh, Holden and the Panther fight. Now I get the show for free.”</p>
<p>“We’re all supposed to wear ClubCap shirts, including him. As an inside joke,” said Dambu. “You have one, right?”</p>
<p>“Sure, I’m a charter member from 2016. Just got a new one. I’ll run home and get it.”</p>
<p>“Wait till you meet the other half of Holden’s team,” Desta said archly.</p>
<p>“The Kathryn Sheen person?”</p>
<p>“Yep.”</p>
<p>“So she’s interesting too. What’s her story?”</p>
<p>Desta and Dambu looked at each other and smiled. “We’ll let her surprise you,” she said.</p>
<p>* * *</p>
<p>A small phalanx of athletes jogged briskly down a quiet side street near Joe’s Gym. Birnin Zana didn’t really have seedy sectors, but this dense area about four kilometers from the palace was the closest there was. Most of the retail architecture was ’80s vintage, well maintained but fading in the tropical climate. It was more stereotypically “African” looking than current Wakandan styles and lacked the higher tech of the past twenty years.</p>
<p>Desta and Dambu led, followed by T’Challa and Steve, with Natasha and N’Bema bringing up the rear. Dambu carried a small gym bag with the king’s phone and the neckpiece that contained the Black Panther habit, in case of emergency. The other Wakandans had opted for wearing communication beads around their wrists—less fully featured than their principal devices but compact and comfortable.</p>
<p>The Americans hadn’t been issued the bead versions and had left their devices at home. Steve and Nat reasoned they’d be with the only people who might need to find them quickly. It was an odd feeling now, he thought, to be out of electronic contact for even a short time. He’d started to get used to it when living in 1949, but he’d still used his disconnected phone as something of a security blanket.</p>
<p>They headed down an alley and onto the busier street the gym fronted. As they slowed up and approached the glass front doors, Joe Pinkerton and his partner, Art Makeba, swung them open with a flourish.</p>
<p>“Welcome, your highness, to Joe’s Gym!” Joe announced excitedly. He’d lived in Wakanda since 1985 and this was the first time he had personally met a member of the royal family. T’Challa saluted formally, which the two returned with great solemnity. Art had very dark skin and a compact, wiry build; he looked exactly like someone who might own and use a fitness club. Joe was taller, older, and fleshier, resembling a gone-to-seed Joe Frazier complete with thin mustache.</p>
<p>At Dambu’s request, the gym had closed for the afternoon for security and privacy; the government would compensate for the loss of business. The proprietors introduced themselves toT’Challa, and gym members Dambu and N’Bema greeted them familiarly. Dambu introduced Desta with her War Dog title, and Steve and “Kat” as consultants for WDG who were also “students of martial arts.”</p>
<p>The initial conversation was in Wakandan, which Steve negotiated well. Still, T’Challa suggested that they switch to English for the comfort of the American guests, who noted to themselves that Joe was merely civil to them. Steve thought it might be due to a distaste for white Americans—there was some reason he’d abandoned the US for Wakanda. Joe had mentioned that he’d never left after getting himself smuggled in decades before, even after the country opened and travel became normalized.</p>
<p>Steve was correct about Joe’s attitude but didn’t have the whole picture. The expatriate was secretly charmed by Kat Sheen, with her flawless Wakandan and a vibe that was more cosmopolitan than provincial American. As for Steve, Joe found him oddly familiar and unnerving. Something about the man bothered him, even though the visitor seemed good-natured and respectful, and he was royally approved.</p>
<p>For his part, Steve also wondered if he’d met Joe before, but it seemed impossible. He chalked it up to the fact that the man’s surname was the same as the owner of the gym he’d used back in ’49 and he vaguely resembled an older version of him.</p>
<p>Joe and Art proudly gave the king and his entourage a tour of the facility, which was as well-equipped as Dambu had promised. A large section of the first floor consisted of rows of modern cardio and strength training machines. Surveying them, Steve said, “This selection is as good or better than any gym I’ve seen in New York or Washington. Do you also have free weights, pull-up bars, punching bags, equipment like that?”</p>
<p>“Sure,” Joe said. “Down in the basement. We have some members who won’t let go of the old-fashioned ways. You like to hark back to a simpler time?”</p>
<p>“I can go either way, but hydraulics and cables are easier to break.”</p>
<p>Natasha winced inwardly. Was he so rusty as to fumble and imply a fact he shouldn’t disclose?</p>
<p>“Break? These are heavy duty machines, made to take the constant punishment of a commercial establishment,” Joe pointed out. “I don’t think anyone can break them.”</p>
<p>Steve nodded toward T’Challa. “He can.”</p>
<p>Everyone chuckled, Nat with relief. Joe said, “You have a point there, Mr. Holden. What do you prefer, my king?”</p>
<p>“I will take the advice of my informal trainer here,” T’Challa said with a smile. “We have discussed a routine that would use some machines, but for certain exercises I would need something more difficult to bend or pull apart.”</p>
<p>“His highness would really like to see the assembly room or open area you have for sparring,” Steve said. “Hoping it’s bigger than the palace dojo.”</p>
<p>Joe chuckled, and Art said, “We have a gymnasium on the second floor big enough to play basketball in. Come see.”</p>
<p>Art led the group to the stairwell and they headed up, Joe bringing up the rear. Seeing Holden climb the stairs, Joe’s disquiet increased. Something about his general shape, obvious and extraordinary fitness, and the way he moved seemed even more familiar than his face, though Joe was frustrated at his inability to place him. He was also intrigued, and a little insulted, that the king was apparently taking training advice from a foreigner. What was so special about this dude?</p>
<p>As they trailed the group down the hall, Joe said offhandedly, “You mentioned DC. Are you from there?”</p>
<p>Steve was ready with Holden’s cover story, a judiciously edited version of his own. “From Brooklyn originally, lived there most of my life. But I was in DC for a few years. I enjoyed the city a lot.”</p>
<p>“I grew up in Washington. Mama was a teacher, Pop owned and ran a gym. I went off to college to try to be an engineer. Never wanted to go into the family business, but ended up doing it anyway, only in Africa.”</p>
<p>“Huh, what gym? Maybe I’ve been there.”</p>
<p>Joe chuckled. “Nah, it closed long before you were born. When Pop got home from the war he was able to get a business loan. Opened in ’46 when I was four. It was a going concern right up until ’63 when they tore the building down for ‘urban renewal.’ Then Pinky’s Athletic Club was no more.”</p>
<p>Steve had to concentrate to keep from stumbling, stunned by the revelation. Pinky’s was the gym he’d used in ’49. He’d become friends with the elder Pinkerton, or as close to friends as was possible in a segregated era and an odd situation. The gruff, no-nonsense Pinky had an entirely justifiable suspicion of the white man who paid unrefusable amounts of money to rent his gym after hours and went through an unreasonable number of punching bags. But they’d grown to like each other anyway.</p>
<p>“A lot of those old-school boxing gyms were seedy, but Pop made sure his place was classy. No smoking or spitting allowed inside, the kit in good repair, well-lighted.”</p>
<p>Steve stopped himself from agreeing. The place had indeed been clean and modern, and Pinky took great pride in it.</p>
<p>“Mama let me hang out there in the evenings and watch the fellas train and spar, from the time I was a little kid. As long as I finished my homework. My brothers too, when they were old enough.”</p>
<p>At this point, Steve realized with another shock that he knew Joe—or rather, he’d met Joe Pinkerton, now elderly, when he was seven years old. The skinny little boy with wide eyes who shyly showed him his attempts at drawing and was thrilled beyond measure when given a book.</p>
<p>He had a sinking feeling when he considered that he’d imported into his new disguiser the same look that was programmed into his old nanomask. Had Joe recognized him? What were the odds that he would come face to face with someone who’d met him seventy-four years ago on another continent?</p>
<p>Then he realized, with great relief, that it didn’t matter. The “Jomo” he’d known was in a timeline that had split off from this one. This Joe had never met Steve Holden before; Holden hadn’t existed in the past of the timeline they both now inhabited, only in the split one. The situation explained why Steve found Joe familiar, but it didn’t explain why Joe seemed suspicious of him.</p>
<p>Time travel is confusing and treacherous, Steve thought, though he was glad at the moment that it worked the way it did. If he never had to use it again it would be too soon. There was a possibility of one more time trip in his future, but he aimed to put that one off as long as he could, maybe forever.</p>
<p>They emerged into the gym, which was spectacular. Rows of large windows faced the streets on either side of the building, augmenting with sunshine the high-tech lights embedded in the high ceiling. The flooring was imported hard maple, like NBA courts, Joe pointed out proudly. The goals folded up when not needed. Lacking bleachers, the room wasn’t set up for spectators, though there were some movable benches.</p>
<p>“A film on the windows and the overhead system adjust to achieve even lighting,” Art noted.</p>
<p>“Can anyone see in?” Natasha asked.</p>
<p>“No, the film is opaque to passing hovercraft,” he clarified.</p>
<p>Nat and Steve shared a quick glance, then Steve made eye contact with T’Challa, who nodded almost imperceptibly.</p>
<p>“This is an excellent venue for sparring, especially when we have several participants, like today,” the king declared.</p>
<p>“These mats are set up for an aikido class. Will that do?” Art asked.</p>
<p>“Are they the same as what ClubCap uses when they train?” Dambu asked.</p>
<p>“You don’t know?” Art responded, looking around at the matching shirts.</p>
<p>“I’m the only one of us who’s a dues-paying member, I think. Same mats,” N’Bema affirmed.</p>
<p>“We’re wearing the shirts because the design is so stylish,” Natasha said breezily. While Joe and Art conferred, Nat looked over at Desta, who smirked and shook her head a fraction.</p>
<p>“Would we be allowed to watch for awhile?” Joe asked. Art said nothing but had a keen, hopeful look.</p>
<p>“Certainly,” T’Challa said. N’Bema’s face fell and Dambu looked concerned. Spectators without security clearance would preclude the main event.</p>
<p>Another glance passed between the king and Steve, who got from the exchange that T’Challa had some idea up his sleeve, though he wasn’t sure what. “Let’s stretch out and warm up, and figure out who’s the first sacrificial lamb for Black Panther,” Steve directed.</p>
<p>T’Challa grinned.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0040"><h2>40. Main Event</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Natasha, Desta, Dambu, and N’Bema all get to spar with the king, but the main event is Steve versus T’Challa.</p>
<p>Rating: Teen and Up<br/>Content Note: sexual innuendo</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Do you spar wearing shoes or barefoot?” Steve asked T’Challa.</p>
<p>“Barefoot is traditional. And no suit. Or weapons, of course.” The king looked sideways at Natasha, who smiled sheepishly and swung her leg off the bench where she’d propped it to stretch.</p>
<p>The other fighters were completing their warmups and sipping from water bottles the proprietors had provided. Besides their long-sleeved tees, all wore black trousers designed for full-contact martial arts practice—not too tight, not too loose. Gym owners Joe and Art sat on a bench to watch the proceedings, their eyes sparkling with anticipation. The overhead lamps of the gymnasium dimmed slightly to accommodate the afternoon light from the west windows.</p>
<p>The agreed order was Dambu, Desta, N’Bema, and Natasha. Steve was to fight T’Challa last but he wasn’t sure what would happen when his turn came. He didn’t want to have to feign normal abilities, which he would need to do in front of the gym owners. That would be both less fun and less useful to the king.</p>
<p>“Desta will time. Match ends after five minutes or three falls, whichever comes first,” Steve said. He went over the rules briefly, including a ban on targeting the eyes, blows to the head or crotch, and excessive twisting of joints. All were to pull their strikes to avoid breaking bones though not necessarily to avoid bruising.</p>
<p>“The entire mat is the match boundary,” he clarified. “Sparring in the palace dojo is useful to train for real fights that take place indoors. We have the luxury here of using a larger area, simulating the outdoors.”</p>
<p>“Indeed, I more commonly engage outside than inside,” T’Challa agreed. “At places such as airports.”</p>
<p>Steve suppressed a smile and was careful not to look directly at either T’Challa or Nat. “Good example. Dambu, you ready?”</p>
<p>The king and Dambu faced off, exchanged a quick salute, and commenced. Initially they circled one another at a two-meter distance. Dambu feinted but T’Challa didn’t take the bait. Next the guardsman launched a solid kick but his opponent caught his lower leg before the blow landed and flipped him up. The move would have put most fighters on the floor, but Dambu rebounded off his hands and was immediately back on his feet, evading a counted fall.</p>
<p>They continued for over four minutes, Dambu employing the standard King’s Guard mixture of martial arts, with an emphasis on Muay Thai. When T’Challa spun Dambu into his third fall, he landed with a heavy thud. T’Challa extended his hand to the guardsman to help him up. Dambu looked chagrined at landing on his rear, though he was proud he’d lasted almost five minutes. All involved knew that if T’Challa unleashed his full strength, speed, and agility, the non-enhanced fighters would lose quickly. But he was practiced at dialing himself back to make the matches last and give the sparring partners helpful training.</p>
<p>“To maintain momentum, notes will be given for one minute, and then we start the next match. We can have further discussions later. Your highness?” Steve waited for T’Challa to comment.</p>
<p>“I have sparred with Dambu on many occasions and given my critiques. I think it would be more worthwhile to hear new perspectives,” the king said.</p>
<p>“Oh. Sure, if you prefer. Kat, you have any thoughts?”</p>
<p>She identified a point of weakness in Dambu’s upper-body approach and one in his foot placement. Art and Joe looked at each other, surprised at her acumen, and N’Bema raised his eyebrows. His curiosity about her background was piqued even more.</p>
<p>Steve took over timing duties as Desta took the floor. She was a slower, more deliberate fighter who hit hard, and despite being the oldest acquitted herself well with a War Dog style that relied on many Krav Maga techniques. Her third fall came right at four minutes. N’Bema, despite his youth and fitness, didn’t make it as long, three and a half minutes. His performance was still an accomplishment; most fighters would have trouble going more than two minutes against the king. Steve and Natasha gave both of them helpful hints.</p>
<p>“Kathryn, you’re up,” Steve said, and headed toward the bench. They exchanged a low five as she passed, though they would have preferred a hug and kiss. The pair strove to preserve a professional demeanor; becoming known as an item was one thing, but public displays of affection tended to make people uncomfortable.</p>
<p>“Why are you sitting down now?” N’Bema asked Steve.</p>
<p>“This match may take awhile,” he said with a little smile.</p>
<p>Natasha was wound up and raring to go in her first opportunity to spar in months. She attacked early and often, surprising T’Challa and the spectators with her aggression and skill. A discerning observer would have noted many Russian Sambo techniques in her repertoire.</p>
<p>Steve watched the match silently. He had no need to make mental notes—they hadn’t bothered to critique each other in years. It had been over a year in his personal time since he had seen her fight, and he sat back and enjoyed her balletic grace and effectiveness. He had always admired her shapely form, but his appreciation was different now. He’d seen the look in her eyes as they made love, knew what it was like to feel her lips on him, to have those legs around . . . He shook his head slightly to clear it. He was supposed to focus on fighting this afternoon, not other physical activities. But it was hard.</p>
<p>Though she was the participant with the shortest reach and smallest mass, Natasha’s lightning speed, fine-tuned balance, and precise placement of blows and other moves kept T’Challa on his guard and her largely on her feet. Steve was surprised at his own reaction when she took her first fall after three minutes. While she was down for a few seconds, he had to suppress a strong impulse to check on her, even though he was sure she was fine. It was a sign he was moonstruck after their first night together, which she might find charming, but she wouldn’t approve of his coddling her.</p>
<p>At the five-minute mark, Nat had taken only one countable fall and one “bounce,” and her opponent was actually starting to breathe harder. “Time,” Desta called out.</p>
<p>Though the War Dog leader had certainly expected the legendary Black Widow to be formidable, actually watching her was astonishing. Dambu also gained new respect for her skills, while N’Bema was gobsmacked. Who was this woman?</p>
<p>“Whoo!” Natasha shouted, jumping straight up in the air in jubilation. T’Challa applauded, sparking the others to join him.</p>
<p>“That was great! Thank you, your highness,” she said with a grin. “I know you were holding back but I had fun going a round with you.”</p>
<p>“I was tempted to increase my level of challenge, but that would not have been fair,” T’Challa said.</p>
<p>“And could have been damaging. Thanks just the same,” she said with a laugh.</p>
<p>“Dambu, please retrieve my communication device,” the king said. “I have been out of touch for some time now and it would behoove me to check in with the palace.”</p>
<p>The Wakandans gathered around Natasha, congratulating her, while the king looked at his phone. Steve hung back as she answered questions about her technique, her body still humming with adrenaline. He was happy to see her lauded for something she excelled at, in safety rather than the usual deadly situation. He questioned, however, why she hadn’t employed one of her signature moves: the flip up to catch the opponent’s head between her thighs and pull him down. The maneuver leveraged her small size effectively and on the ground her reach and mass were less of a handicap.</p>
<p>“I got the impression a couple of times that you were holding back, just like his highness,” Desta remarked to Nat.</p>
<p>“Maybe a little. Have to leave some tricks up my sleeve for the team match,” she admitted. She glanced at Steve, and he had his answer.</p>
<p>T’Challa appeared at the edge of the group. “Esteemed hosts,” T’Challa said to Art and Joe, “I have received word of a troubling incident. Regrettably, I must ask you to allow my staff and me some private time. I would like to brief them in confidence and engage in a discussion of next steps that I can communicate to others in my government. Rest assured there is no immediate threat to Wakanda, but it is something I would like to attend to without delay.”</p>
<p>“Certainly, your highness. We’ll go downstairs to our basement office and ensure no one enters the building,” Joe said.</p>
<p>“Take all the time you need, and if you require anything please send for us. We will monitor the street door on camera,” Art added.</p>
<p>The king thanked them heartily and they headed for the hallway. Steve walked them out and was effusively grateful and complimentary, to further cushion any disappointment. Far from being offended, the pair seemed jazzed that security discussions, perhaps even intrigue, would be conducted under their roof.</p>
<p>In the hall, Steve assured them that the group would check out with them before leaving. He stepped back inside the gymnasium and tried to close the door. It was held open by the hydraulic closer mechanism at the top, which was stuck. Steve reached up to release the arm and the heavy wooden door swung shut. The proprietors heard the deadbolt click into place.</p>
<p>As they went down the stairs, Joe stumbled and seized the handrail.</p>
<p>“Are you all right?” Art asked in Wakandan.</p>
<p>“I’m rattled by that Holden fellow. He seemed very familiar, but I could not figure how. Now I remember where I know him from,” Joe said in a low voice, sounding almost haunted. “I did not recognize him with a beard, but I looked closely at his eyes just now and it clicked.”</p>
<p>“He has visited Wakanda in the past?”</p>
<p>“I have no idea. It was not here that I saw him.”</p>
<p>“He is too young for you to have met him before you came to Africa.”</p>
<p>“That is so.” Joe stopped on the landing and put his hand on Art’s arm. “He was in my dreams.”</p>
<p>“What? Come now, Joe. You had some dream that included a tall white man with short hair and blue eyes. It was probably an image of someone else you have met. White people look remarkably alike.”</p>
<p>“No. The eyes are the same, and the way he moves. When he reached up to fix the door, it was like a flashback.”</p>
<p>“An oddity, to be sure, but why are you so upset?”</p>
<p>“It was not a recent memory. I saw that man in a series of dreams I had when I was seven years old.”</p>
<p>* * *</p>
<p>As Steve returned, Natasha remarked to the king, “That was easy. I almost believed you myself.”</p>
<p>N’Bema was puzzled at her words, on top of his concern about the alarming message the king had received. “I’m clearance level seven. Is that high enough for me to hear about this incident?” he asked.</p>
<p>T’Challa smiled. “No incident occurred. It was a ruse to excuse the proprietors. Now our guests can remove their disguises and Mr. Holden and I can swing from the chandeliers if we wish.”</p>
<p>“Speaking of which,” Steve said, “there are cameras in two corners of the room that we don’t want functional.” He tapped behind his ear and his mask began to retreat. He had tweaked the programming: the facial features were the same but it now accommodated his beard, lightening it and adding gray so that Holden looked older.</p>
<p>Natasha turned off her disguiser, which covered her whole head and braid. She peered up at where Steve was pointing. “Those look like old Owl 600s. No audio capability to worry about. Wireless networking, battery powered, so can’t just unplug them. But they have a lens cover that activates with a button on the underside.”</p>
<p>“Very astute to notice,” T’Challa said. “We could request they be disabled electronically, but Joe and Art might find the temptation to turn them back on too great. N’Bema, do you know where we might find a ladder?”</p>
<p>Steve said, “That’ll take too long—we should shut them down before the gentlemen get tothe monitor in their office. I’ll deal with it. I need a warmup anyhow.”</p>
<p>With a running start he leaped three meters off the ground and seized a support of the basketball goal, which was folded up parallel with the ceiling. He swung himself onto the structure, stood, and jumped a short distance to grab a steel support bracket that projected down from the ceiling. Then it was a hand-over-hand trip along the row of brackets to get to the camera mounted in the southwest corner.</p>
<p>N’Bema didn’t know where to look. Everyone was delightedly watching the stunt by the unmasked Steve Rogers, but he also caught a glimpse of Kathryn Sheen’s transformation. A rather ordinary-looking brunette woman became an auburn-haired beauty who exactly resembled Black Widow. He realized no one else was paying attention because they knew who she was. Somehow he was faced with Natasha Romanov, who was supposed to be dead. But her apparent identity matched her extraordinary fighting skill. He couldn’t wait to tell his cousin who worked in the palace—and had appropriate clearance—that her idol was alive and that he’d met her.</p>
<p>Steve swiftly monkey-barred over to the camera in the opposite corner. He pulled himself up into position with one arm as he dangled from the support, reaching for the button with the other hand. He then flung himself toward the mats so that when landing from several meters up he wouldn’t make too much noise. He hit, rolled, and popped up immediately, looking down at his hands. Natasha tossed him a towel from a stack on the bench.</p>
<p>“Thanks,” he said, wiping off dust and grime and tossing the towel onto a bench. “What’s your pleasure, your highness?”</p>
<p>“You and I go a five-minute round, then decide how to proceed?”</p>
<p>“Perfect. Same rules except we hit harder?” Steve asked.</p>
<p>“I say we use the entire court.”</p>
<p>“Basketball goals and the walls are out of bounds?”</p>
<p>T’Challa smiled and nodded. “Agreed.” He saluted and Steve returned the gesture.</p>
<p>The onlookers moved their benches back a meter and settled down in rapt attention, Natasha no less than the others. This was a treat. She’d watched Steve spar many a time but always with normal human colleagues without their habitual equipment: Clint, Sam, Rhodey, Tony, advanced agents back in SHIELD days, martial arts instructors, and of course herself. Bucky had rarely been available, unfortunately. Bruce, Wanda, and Vision were special cases. Those few times he was around, Thor had done whatever he felt like, and “play fighting” wasn’t part of it.</p>
<p>Nat was surprised when Steve launched immediately at T’Challa, landing a spinning roundhouse kick on the king’s chest. She was used to his taking a cautious approach in training. His aggression made sense because he was free to use his abilities nearly to their fullest. He was now acting almost as if he were in a real fight, and she’d never had the opportunity in the field to just watch him; she was always busy.</p>
<p>The spectators picked out elements of wing chun, aikido, and Western boxing, but in truth it was hard to pinpoint the types of martial arts used in the match. Any system had to be significantly adapted to their enhanced condition. What sort of move was it when T’Challa leaped entirely over Steve from a standing start, made a double-handed strike as he twisted around on the way down, and stuck a perfect landing?</p>
<p>As they got into the fight and began to move faster than normal, it became difficult to see details of what they were doing. T’Challa’s idea to declare the whole ballcourt in bounds proved a good one. They used every meter of it; sometimes they covered the width of the court in two leaps as they charged at each other, and landed blows and throws that flung the recipient back six or eight meters.</p>
<p>The men were unfazed by the forces unleashed; big smiles alternated with fierce concentration as they swept past in a blur. Neither spoke, nor vocalized when striking. Occasional grunts accompanied the beat of their feet and the wince-inducing thuds when strikes connected solidly or their bodies hit the wooden floor off the mats.</p>
<p>N’Bema spent most of the match with his mouth open. Whatever he was expecting, this exceeded it. Black Panther and Cap—as he still thought of him—leaped high in the air, spun in multiple directions, and somersaulted in their quest to land well, execute throws, and avoid the other’s hits. And what an array of hits it was: punches, edge-hand blows, whole-arm blows, elbows, knees, sweeps, front kicks, back kicks, spinning kicks, flying kicks, body checks, tackles. Yet they deftly avoided rule-breaking strikes despite moving at whirlwind speed. Occasionally they would fight at close quarters, their shorter strikes coming more quickly than watching eyes could process.</p>
<p>Desta’s had her holographic timer running and was waiting for 5:00 to roll up. At 4:50 Steve came at T’Challa with a glancing but powerful blow to the shoulder that spun him around. The American then kicked the back of his knee to destabilize the leg and followed up almost too fast to see with a wrenching takedown relying on pure strength. At 4:56 he had pinned T’Challa with one knee and arm and was holding his fist against the king’s chin, showing he could have landed a substantial blow directly to the face.</p>
<p>The last few seconds ticked by and neither moved, leaving them in a dramatic tableau. “Time!” cried Desta.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0041"><h2>41. Go Team</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>The king’s group forms into teams to spar and a fine time is had by all. Joe learns just enough about Steve to deepen the mystery around him, and Natasha and Steve have trouble keeping their passion under wraps.</p><p>Rating: Mature<br/>Content Note: sexual situations and innuendo</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Steve stood, grinning, and extended a hand to T’Challa to help him up. Both were breathing faster than normal, but weren’t really winded.</p><p>The king got to his feet in a leisurely fashion, smiling and shaking his head. “That was very interesting timing.”</p><p>“Pure luck that I got that last combo in before the bell,” said Steve.</p><p>“I do not think so, my friend,” T’Challa replied, laughing.</p><p>The Wakandans glanced at one another in disbelief. Though the match was technically a draw, as neither fighter had three falls and had stayed in bounds, it was obvious who’d taken the upper hand. The two were well matched in physical and technical attributes, so the next spar might well go the other way, but the fact that the king <i>could</i> be overcome in hand-to-hand combat blindsided them.</p><p>Natasha wasn’t surprised, but she was very impressed, and glad she’d gotten to witness the bout. As a martial arts demonstration, it was a tour de force. As entertainment it was spectacular and, she thought to herself, extremely hot. She uncrossed her legs and tore her gaze away from Steve, whose shirt clung to his muscles, gently swollen with exertion.</p><p>“I recall that when we first discussed sparring, I said I would bring no witnesses. I should have maintained that stance,” T’Challa said with a smirk.</p><p>Steve shook his head. “No reason to be embarrassed. I had the distinct advantage of observing you fighting these four expert and effective warriors.” The other Wakandans perked up at his praise, though all were too cool to crack a smile. They also didn’t want to interrupt the conversation. It wasn’t every day one got to hear two superheroes shooting the breeze.</p><p>Steve continued, “Besides, sparring’s valuable for training, but it doesn’t correlate perfectly with combat. If we were fighting for real you’d have the habit and claws, for one thing.”</p><p>“If we were fighting for real you would have a blade-resistant tactical suit and a shield.”</p><p>“Suit maybe, shield no. Not anymore.”</p><p>T’Challa chose not to argue about it—at least not now. “Is it me, or are you more accomplished than you were when we fought several years ago?”</p><p>“I hope so. I try to continually improve on many fronts. Also, we limited ourselves in that fight. Determined to stop one another from attaining our objectives, yet unwilling to kill. Like a very serious sparring match, in some ways.”</p><p>“That was indeed the case for me. Regarding the match just concluded: To save time, and face, perhaps you can give me your notes at another meeting.”</p><p>“Of course. Let’s discuss an idea I have for the team sparring today.” Steve suggested the king wear the Panther habit. He would almost always have it on in a real fight so it was worthwhile to train in it. Though the suit would shift the balance of power further in T’Challa’s favor, even without use of the claws, that could be counteracted by fighting both Steve and one of the others.</p><p>“If that’s not enough to level the field, we’ll add a third,” said Steve.</p><p>T’Challa agreed, and donned the nanotech suit that Dambu had in safekeeping. Steve asked Nat to partner for the ten-minute initial match, and she readily accepted. They stood side by side facing Black Panther, and the three saluted. The psychological effect of the fearsome-looking habit was a significant factor for most opponents, but not for Natasha and Steve. They were used to taking on even scarier foes.</p><p>“Whiskey?” Steve asked quietly, not looking at her.</p><p>“Tango,” Natasha suggested.</p><p>“OK,” he confirmed.</p><p>Steve attacked T’Challa and Natasha dashed behind the king. She hit T’Challa with a spinning kick to the lower back, knocking him forward so Steve could land a solid shove on his shoulders. T’Challa barely managed to avoid falling and turned to square off with Steve, while Natasha again got behind him where he couldn’t see her. Trying the same strike, she rebounded forcefully off the high-tech Panther habit, which had absorbed her first blow and fed back the same kinetic energy. Sailing in a long arc through the air, she landed five meters away. Nat hit the mat tumbling properly, but after she stopped lay still on her back, arms and legs splayed.</p><p>Steve parried a punch from T’Challa and bolted to Natasha, throwing himself down on his knees beside her. She looked at him in surprise as he hovered, placing a hand on her chest. “Nat, are you all right?” he asked in alarm.</p><p>“Yeah, just catching a breath and letting my head clear for a second.” She propped herself up on her elbows.</p><p>“Is your back OK? Your head? Did you twist anything?”</p><p>“Honey, I’m fine,” she assured him, reaching out to stroke his cheek. “I’ve taken worse falls.”</p><p>Steve bowed his head and clutched her wrist. Her words crystallized for him why he’d had such an awful, sinking lurch in his guts when he’d seen her sprawled on the mat motionless. Her pose had resembled her corpse on Vormir.</p><p>Natasha sat up to show she was easily shaking off the tumble. “Nothing hurts more than it should. Really. You can help me up if you want, since apparently we’ve paused the match,” she said with a chuckle.</p><p>He tucked a hand under each of her elbows and stood, bringing her with him with no more trouble than if he were picking up a rag doll. Her left shoulder twinged and she winced. Without thinking Steve took her in his arms to comfort her. He felt her tense in surprise, and realized what he’d done, though he wasn’t sure why he’d done it. Had he been triggered by memory of the death scene or had he gone soft toward her because of their escalating affair?</p><p>Nat relaxed into his arms a moment after her initial shock. So much for preserving professional distance. His almost-panicked reaction to her fall was interesting. Though he’d cared for her for many years, he’d never expressed anything beyond the normal concern for her well-being appropriate for a friend and colleague. Was he just being more open about his feelings now, or had they changed that much in the past month?</p><p>She realized she’d blown whatever cover might have been left for them when she’d reached out and touched his face. And called him “honey.” They really were a couple of saps at this point.</p><p>T’Challa, Desta, and Dambu smiled knowingly. N’Bema’s mouth had dropped open again. He couldn’t wait to tell Cousin N’Talia what he’d seen.</p><p>“Let’s roll the clock back to when we stopped,” Natasha called out. Desta nodded and manipulated her timer. Steve went over to T’Challa and squared up while Nat remained where she was to preserve the status quo ante.</p><p>“Go,” said Desta, and they continued the match. Natasha and Steve settled into their established fighting habits, and the spectators remarked on their impeccable teamwork. After a minute, T’Challa figured out their pattern well enough to anticipate Natasha’s next attack, evading it and easily throwing her aside. She managed to bounce up so no fall was counted but it was clearly time to shift tactics.</p><p>“Whiskey!” she called out, and joined Steve facing T’Challa. The new pattern was for Steve to put a hold on T’Challa, however brief it might be. Nat would dart in and capitalize by sweeping a leg, seizing an arm, whatever presented itself to help Steve better execute another move. They refrained from hitting the Panther habit more than once in the same place, concentrating on holds, pushes, and throws rather than strikes.</p><p>The approach worked well, the king steadily forced to retreat from them toward the boundary and almost falling twice. But after less than a minute Steve called out “Foxtrot!” and their pattern changed again. Instead of facing their opponent from a static position, they began to rotate around him like dancers. Steve held T’Challa’s attention, forcing him to fend off his attacks, while Natasha darted in and out to land blows or twist limbs. All the while, both of them moved clockwise around the Wakandan. He was continually off balance as he followed their movements. Finally Nat found an opening to try her signature move, and Black Panther took his first fall of the day.</p><p>T’Challa freed himself of her legs, rolled away, and bounded back to his feet. Retreating a couple of meters to regroup, he decided it was time to let another fighter in on the action. “Mutombo, help!” he shouted, and everyone laughed. Desta dashed into the fight. Though she and the king had never trained as a team, she was able to occupy Natasha sufficiently to even out the match somewhat. After another minute or so—no one was bothering to look at the timer anymore—T’Challa called out “Dambu! Three on two!” and waved him in.</p><p>The five fighters adapted to the new configuration, and Steve and Nat buckled down and intensified their style. To the Wakandans’ surprise, the Americans easily held their own in the face of three fierce opponents. They’d shifted without perceptible code or command to primarily defensive tactics against Team Panther.</p><p>Eventually, T’Challa managed to corner Nat while the others double-teamed Steve to keep him from helping her. The strategy was to force her out of bounds to disqualify her and isolate Steve. As Black Panther maneuvered Natasha closer to the line, N’Bema suddenly leaped up from the bench, calling, “I’m in!” He ran across the court toward T’Challa and Nat, but instead of helping his king he knocked him briefly off balance with a flying kick.</p><p>“Woohoo, N’Bema’s on Team Steve!” Natasha yelled, setting off another round of laughter. She and the young soldier double-teamed T’Challa, driving him slowly into the middle of the court. At Nat’s direction, N’Bema shifted to confront Dambu and she took on Desta, freeing Steve to go after Black Panther again. Nat soon was able to throw Desta for an official fall. The free-for-all continued for another half minute until T’Challa saw Dambu tripped by N’Bema as he took advantage of a slip caused by fatigue.</p><p>“Time!” called T’Challa. As Steve stood down, the king turned off his helmet.</p><p>“What time? Nobody’s looking at the clock,” Natasha exclaimed, ready to fight as long as it took to defeat her rivals.</p><p>T’Challa laughed and shook his head. “I exercise my royal right to declare we’ve had enough,” he said, panting slightly. His fighters all looked winded, and Nat leaned over and sucked more air in as well. Steve was sweating but otherwise still looked vigorous.</p><p>“That was an excellent sparring series,” T’Challa announced. “Congratulations to all of you, and my thanks.” He saluted, and everyone returned it. Dambu and N’Bema, exhilarated, gave one another the Wakandan handshake, a complex form of salute exchanged only by good friends or family. Desta held up her hand for a high five, and Nat executed it with a hoot and a hard slap. T’Challa shook Steve’s hand in Western style and made a mental note to teach him the Wakandan version.</p><p>“That was more fun than I’ve had in a month of Sundays,” Steve said to the king.</p><p>T’Challa looked confused. “It is Friday,” he pointed out.</p><p>“Sorry, American idiom. Just means a long time,” Steve explained. “I hope you and your associates found the afternoon useful.”</p><p>“Indeed, and entertaining as well,” T’Challa assured him. “I hope we can soon schedule another round, and embark upon our strength training.”</p><p>“Fridays are good gym days for me, but of course I’m flexible. Also, I have ideas for high-speed floor exercises that’d be of no use to the others. Maybe we can get Joe and Art to let us into this room by ourselves some evening after closing.”</p><p>“I will have the arrangements made. I have no doubt both are thrilled for this to be known as the unofficial royal gym.”</p><p>T’Challa used the Panther claws to scale the walls so he could turn on the surveillance cameras. The Wakandans continued to talk about the matches as they put the room in order and got ready to go. Steve stood behind Natasha with his hands resting on her shoulders as they resumed their disguises and waited for the others to finish. He still felt pumped up and had an adrenaline buzz, so when he thought of a prank to play on Nat his social filters were thin.</p><p>He leaned down and said slowly and quietly in her ear, “You are so goddamned hot I want to rip off all your clothes, bend you over that bench over there, and plow you right now.” He was ready when her knees weakened, holding her steady for the moment it took her to recover. She turned her head just enough to see half of his innocent smile.</p><p>“How’s that?” he asked brightly. “Naughty enough for you?”</p><p>“You bastard,” she muttered, and faced forward again. “You sexy, sexy bastard.”</p><p>The group headed to the first floor. Nat and Steve volunteered to go downstairs and notify Joe and Art they were leaving. They did so and the proprietors climbed up from the basement to say farewell. The Americans lingered in a large room containing free weights and punching bags, which Steve inspected as Nat watched.</p><p>In the wake of the fight and Steve’s bold whisper, Natasha brimmed with excitement. When he started toward the stairway, she pulled him further into the dim exercise room instead. She removed her disguise again, put her arms around him, then slid her hands down to grab a double handful of muscular rump. “Take off that mask and kiss me hard,” she demanded. He embraced her tightly and obliged. They continued for a minute, fondling each other’s charged, sweaty bodies. She broke off and asked breathlessly, “Do we have time to try out this weight bench over here?”</p><p>“We do not. Not even a quickie. They’re waiting for us.”</p><p>“Damn. Do you really fantasize about doing it with people watching?”</p><p>“No, that has no appeal,” Steve said decisively. “You said dirty talk doesn’t have to be accurate, just provocative. I figured that scenario would get a strong reaction from you.”</p><p>“It certainly did. I appreciate the effort, but you don’t have to push yourself on my account. What would be a more accurate scenario?”</p><p>“I want to kiss and caress every inch of your body, then make slow, sweet love with you, in a comfy bed in our cozy, private apartment.”</p><p>“Ooh. That sounds even better,” Natasha said, resting her head on his chest.</p><p>“<i>I</i> think so,” Steve agreed.</p><p>“But we already checked slow and sweet off the immediate list.”</p><p>“No we didn’t,” he said, puzzled.</p><p>“Early this morning, don’t you remember?”</p><p>“It was wonderful, but that took what? Less than an hour?”</p><p>“That’s not slow?”</p><p>“Not hardly. I’m talking about a couple of hours, minimum. More if you like.”</p><p>“Sounds like a long time to have to wait, to be honest,” Nat said, looking up at him.</p><p>“For you we build up to a climax every twenty minutes or so. Mine are negotiable.”</p><p>“Oh, I see. I haven’t actually done anything quite that extended.”</p><p>“You’ve clearly been dating the wrong men.”</p><p>“I figured that out quite awhile ago. Just took a long time to bag the right one.” They gazed at each other and were mesmerized again for a moment.</p><p>“We really ought to go,” Steve finally said with a sigh.</p><p>“Yeah.” They kissed briefly. Natasha brought her hand around from behind him and felt him up in the front, causing him to gasp.</p><p>“You going to be OK jogging back with this?”</p><p>“Sure. I’m used to it. Tight underwear and loose pants are helpful when sparring, and for other eventualities.”</p><p>“Mm, I like those ten-dollar words almost as much as the naughty ones. Give me more.”</p><p>“Let me think. Um, intercontinental. Panglossian. Superlative. Uh, flibbertigibbet.”</p><p>“You used that one today already. But I’ll allow it.”</p><p>“Arbitrage.”</p><p>“Too short.”</p><p>“That’s what <i>she</i> said,” Steve joked.</p><p>“Oh no she didn’t.” She squeezed him gently again and they dissolved in giggles.</p><p>“Shoo, upstairs with you. We have to go home,” he insisted.</p><p>They deployed their disguisers one more time, bounded up the flight of stairs, and rejoined the palace entourage in the foyer. “Where have you been?” T’Challa asked.</p><p>“Checking out the old equipment,” Natasha said flatly, and Steve had to literally bite his lip to keep from laughing.</p><p>Having already said their goodbyes, the rest of the group went out to the sunny midafternoon street while Natasha and Steve paid their respects to the proprietors. Art walked Nat to the door while Steve and Joe shook hands again and Steve complimented him on his facility.</p><p>Joe replied, “I’m very glad his highness and the group enjoyed it.” For some reason, despite the mystery around Holden, to Joe he had the air of someone who’d understand his emotions about the day. “You know, my father took great pride in his athletic club. Wasn’t just a business to him, but a place he believed was important to the community. Having the king and his people here is like the pinnacle of my work over more than forty years. I wish my Pop could have seen it.”</p><p>Even though Steve was distracted, he could tell the man was indeed moved by the visit of the royal entourage. Impulsively he said, “It’s a great place, and from what Dambu and N’Bema say, you foster a first-class community of athletes. Michael would be proud.” He slapped him on the shoulder with a smile, and hurried to catch up to Natasha and the group outside.</p><p>Joe stood staring after Steve. Art, returning to his partner’s side, noted the change in his demeanor. “Is the dream thing bothering you again?”</p><p>“Not as much as what he just said to me.”</p><p>“Now what?”</p><p>“I mentioned my father, and Holden said he’d be proud of me.”</p><p>“So?”</p><p>“He called him Michael.”</p><p>Art looked confused. “Why would he do that?”</p><p>“Pinky was his nickname to just about everyone, but his given name was Michael. Only family and close friends called him that.” He turned to face Art. “You’ve known me almost forty years. Have I ever mentioned my pop’s first name?”</p><p>“No. So how would he know? You’re right. That is very weird.”</p><p>Joe shook his head, mystified. Who was this man?</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0042"><h2>42. Mind Matter</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Natasha has a flashback, and she and Steve discuss what’s been healed and what is still standing in the way of their happiness.</p>
<p>Rating: Mature<br/>Content note: Sexual situations, references to violent rape</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Natasha and Steve stepped out of the elevator on their floor, laughing at an observation she’d made about their sparring afternoon. Almost at the same time, both reached up and triggered their disguiser mechanisms to remove them.</p>
<p>“I’ll go shower at my place,” he suggested. “Then should I come over and we can figure out what we want for dinner?”</p>
<p>“Not a chance,” she replied. “You’re coming with me right now.” She grabbed his hand and towed him toward her door.</p>
<p>“I got really sweaty, you know.”</p>
<p>“You certainly did.” Natasha opened the door with the hand reader and pushed him through as they broke out laughing again. She shut it with a bang. They tossed their encapsulated disguisers in a ready bowl on a nearby table, unlaced their shoes and took them off.</p>
<p>Without further ado she kissed him hard, standing on tiptoe and gripping his shoulders. He reciprocated with enthusiasm. Sliding her hands down and around his back, she tried to grab a handful of flesh. She failed because his muscles were too toned and he had so little fat. As in Joe’s basement, she moved one hand around to the front where there was something to fondle.</p>
<p>“There’s a bench right there—I dare you to do what you said back at the gym,” Natasha teased.</p>
<p>Steve glanced at the open blinds of the living room windows, which faced onto the hallway. They were still the only guests on the hall, but it wasn’t impossible for someone to walk by, and closing the blinds would take time. “How about we head for the bedroom instead? Can you live without the bench?”</p>
<p>“Fine.” She let go of him and ran over to the bedroom. “Come and get me.”</p>
<p>He was at her side in an instant, and she hooted with laughter as she grabbed his shirt and pulled him through the doorway. “I want you to strip me, throw me down, and do it rough,” she growled. She was still buzzing with the excitement of an afternoon of fighting and close-up flirting.</p>
<p>He closed the door behind them. “Well, let’s not go overboard,” he said hesitantly.</p>
<p>“Come on, live dangerously.”</p>
<p>“I thought that’s exactly what we weren’t going to do anymore.”</p>
<p>“Faux-dangerously, then.” Her eyes sparkled with mischief and lust.</p>
<p>You had to figure something like this would happen, Steve thought to himself. She’s a lot less boring than you are. Just do it.</p>
<p>Taking a deep breath, he seized the hem of her ClubCap shirt and yanked it up and over her head as she whooped with delight. He was about to stretch and lift her sports bra carefully over her breasts when she demanded, “Rip it.”</p>
<p>“What? I can’t destroy it.”</p>
<p>“You sure can and I want to see it. I’ve got more of ‘em. Come on!”</p>
<p>Gritting his teeth, he grasped the fabric tightly and pulled in opposite directions. The tough material held briefly then tore apart, making Natasha gasp.</p>
<p>The bit of violence, and the entertaining sight of her wobbling breasts, helped Steve commit to the scene. He grabbed her by the shoulders and spun her around, then peeled the ex-bra off and threw it aside. With a hand under one arm and the other under her rounded bottom, he lifted and tossed her forward a couple of meters onto the bed.</p>
<p>Natasha lay startled for a few moments. She’d guessed he would take the rest of her clothes off first before picking her up, and she hadn’t thought he’d throw her quite so far. But before she could make a crack about it, he’d stripped her underwear and pants off, all at once. She was just about to push up on her hands and knees when she felt his weight atop her. It was a highly controlled tackle. He was still wearing a shirt but had somehow removed the rest of his clothes in a few seconds.</p>
<p>Feeling the pressure of him against her naked body, Natasha was flooded with memories. Bad ones. A fist to the face, handcuffs, choking, screaming through a gag, a taser. Rape as punishment for her, reward for a superior officer.</p>
<p>I have to short-circuit this, she thought frantically. I can’t have a flashback right now.</p>
<p>Maybe she could ride it out by dissociating. She couldn’t let him know how badly she was triggered. He’d feel responsible, though he was doing what she’d asked.</p>
<p>It was too late. Steve felt her body go rigid, could tell she was holding her breath. She’d emitted a brief whimper, so faint even he barely heard it. Immediately he lifted himself up. “Natasha? What’s wrong?”</p>
<p>Damn, he pays close attention, she thought. Then her mind was overwhelmed with the sights and sounds of her long-ago abuse, the memories of pain and violation. She was too agitated to hold on and brazen it out. She let out the breath she was holding and a pained moan escaped with it.</p>
<p>In a flash he was off her. He lay down beside her and tried to see her face, reaching out but pulling his hand back at the last moment. “Are you hurt? Is it a flashback? Please talk to me.”</p>
<p>Natasha turned her head. His expression was both a lifeline and like a knife in her heart. His love was evident and so was his fear that he had harmed her, physically or mentally. She couldn’t talk, though she desperately wanted to. Burying her face in the dark coverlet, she reached a hand out to his chest, trying to connect, hoping to reassure him, and herself.</p>
<p>Steve covered her hand with his. The look of terror in her eyes before she’d closed them had shaken him. “Is it all right for me to hold you? I—”</p>
<p>She nodded vigorously, still unable to speak. He gathered her into his arms, and as soon as she was pressed against his warm chest, listening to his heart beat, she began to relax. Fragments of the traumatic memories rattled through her mind, but they were unraveling and no longer tied up her thoughts.</p>
<p>You are such an idiot, Natasha berated herself. You pushed him out of his comfort zone and you’re the one breaking down, ruining the afternoon. She took a shuddering deep breath, then a few more. As he held her steadily and silently, the minutes passed and she calmed down and became more present, the memories finally evaporating. Nat began to rummage around in the box of rusty junk that was her memory for a cover story about why she was upset. She couldn’t admit what really happened; it was too horrible to foist on anyone.</p>
<p>You can only tell him the truth, ordered a voice in her head—her own, but stern, confident, unyielding. He does not deserve to be lied to, it insisted.</p>
<p>There was no defying that voice. “Can we sit up?” she whispered, barely audible.</p>
<p>They did so, side by side, and Steve took off his shirt so they were the same amount of naked. Except she was still wearing socks. Natasha laced her fingers through his.</p>
<p>“I was having a flashback. To something bad that happened several times, in the Red Room days.” She took a deep breath. “By something bad, I mean rape. The position, the weight, being stripped; it added up.”</p>
<p>She leaned over and kissed him on the lips before he could say anything. “And the flashback is in no way your fault. I’m sorry.”</p>
<p>“You don’t have to be sorry, you can’t help—”</p>
<p>“I can’t help getting triggered, but I was reckless,” she clarified. “I don’t know why I badgered you to do something that could bring up some really awful memories.”</p>
<p>“I was the one who gave you the idea,” Steve countered.</p>
<p>“You were trying to please me, talking dirty like I wanted. I hate that I have this impulse, pushing you to do things you don’t want to. That’s what I’m sorry for.”</p>
<p>“Don’t worry about it,” he assured her. “I need to be open-minded and learn what you like. I realize I don’t have much of a repertoire. Not one that would be interesting to a sophisticated woman like you.”</p>
<p>“Oh my God, Steve, please don’t think that.” She looked him in the eye. “You are without a doubt the best lover I’ve ever had. Or can imagine having. You are amazing and you don’t have to change a thing.”</p>
<p>He blinked. “Are you sure? I know I’m pretty tame. What is it they call it? Vanilla.”</p>
<p>“If you’re vanilla, it’s the finest vanilla plus candy sprinkles and chocolate sauce and a cherry on top. There is nothing boring about you. We just started our sex life together yesterday and it’s spectacular. I have no reason to try to ‘spice things up.’ There’s something wrong with me.”</p>
<p>“Are you just reflexively beating yourself up, or are you serious?” Steve asked.</p>
<p>That provoked a little smile. “You know me well. It’s not just a reflex, I’m seriously concerned because I don’t know where this impulse is coming from. Especially because I can see I’ve made progress with my issues. Yesterday, when I was teasing you and I went too far, I didn’t double down, or flee, or go harm myself. I was able to do the right thing, face it, apologize, resolve to do better, get past it.”</p>
<p>“What about nightmares?”</p>
<p>“Haven’t had one since I came back.”</p>
<p>Natasha was sure he was remembering the time many years before when she’d fallen asleep at his suite at headquarters. They’d watched a movie and she’d nodded off, stretched out on the couch. He’d covered her with a blanket and gone off to bed. About three a.m. she’d had a nightmare, though she now couldn’t remember which one. She hadn’t cried out; she almost never did. As a teenager she’d learned that waking up screaming in the night led to physical pain inflicted. Her disturbed breathing and muffled noises had awakened Steve in the next room because of his enhanced hearing, or maybe through some other means. Suddenly, silently, he had appeared, sitting on the floor by the couch.</p>
<p>He’d gently said her name, assured her she was safe and with a friend. After asking if it was OK to touch her, he’d held her hand. At first that calmed her, but soon the effect changed. For the first time, someone she trusted was nearby after a nightmare. The overwhelming relief, at the presence of a close ally to lead her out of the terror, made her cry. She’d withdrawn her hand and sat up, embarrassed and struggling to stop, but he hadn’t let her get away with it. He plopped himself down in his bathrobe next to her, an arm around her shoulders, and took her hand again. That’s when she gave up and let go. They sat in the darkness as she sobbed her heart out, crying literally on his shoulder. When she had worn down, he’d slipped away and gotten tissues for her nose and a warm, damp washcloth for her face. She’d lain back down and fallen asleep again, exhausted.</p>
<p>Awakening briefly in the early dawn, Nat had been dimly aware that Steve lay on the floor in front of the couch, like a sentinel or mascot warding off further bad dreams. When she’d woken up again at about eight, he was clinking about in the kitchen. He’d called out a cheerful greeting and an offer to make pancakes. She’d gone back to her own place after breakfast, and no one had ever known she’d spent the night at his apartment. They hadn’t mentioned the nightmare or its aftermath that day, or anytime. It had remained an odd, numinous passage in their lives, marked only by silence.</p>
<p>Natasha leaned against him, remembering. “On one hand I’m upset with myself, but on the other I’m encouraged, actually. Every time I had a nightmare, flashback, or blackout, it took me a long time to come out of it and calm down. But not now.”</p>
<p>“I wondered about that. There were some serious problems reflected on your brain scans in the past. But I feel a difference in you from before, a clarity,” Steve said earnestly. “Maybe the near-death experience had a positive effect. Or maybe there was actual healing of the damage.”</p>
<p>There were scans of her brain function in her confidential file. She’d mentioned to Steve long ago that she’d seen them, and their analysis. The techniques used on her, especially when she was young and developing, had left her with prefrontal cortex deficits and unusual neural circuitry. It was a miracle she’d had the wherewithal to defect when offered the chance, to voluntarily walk away from those who’d controlled her into the realm of the enemy she’d been taught to hate and fear. She’d fought hard ever since to overwrite her programming, carved not only on her psyche but into her actual flesh.</p>
<p>“I’m surprised you remember about my scans,” said Nat.</p>
<p>“I wish SHIELD had never shown you all that. It must be harder to believe you can overcome conditioning when you’ve actually seen pictures of how your brain was injured by those bastards.” Steve’s jaw clenched.</p>
<p>“SHIELD didn’t. I broke in and read my results. I didn’t tell you that part.”</p>
<p>“Why am I not surprised? But those scans may no longer be accurate. If the Soul Stone could erase scars, why couldn’t it restore neurons?”</p>
<p>“You’re absolutely right,” Natasha said. “I asked M’Gaji directly and she said my brain images are normal now. She couldn’t find anything wrong.” She squeezed his hand. “I wish I wasn’t making you sit here and talk about me and my problems. What a bummer.”</p>
<p>“There’s nothing I find more fascinating than you. And the improvement shown on the new scans—that’s fantastic.”</p>
<p>“It’s easier for me to see my impulses or delusions for what they are, instead of being completely caught up in them, unable to break the pattern. So I think that reflects the deep-seated damage getting healed. There’s always a ceiling, or a wall, that I can’t seem to get past, though. A wall between me and being truly sane and healthy.”</p>
<p>“I think you crashed through that wall but you just don’t believe it yet,” Steve said.</p>
<p>“What do you mean?”</p>
<p>“You broke through to the other side. Past death. You saw what’s out there for you. It wasn’t punishment, or even atonement. It was bliss.” He caressed her hand. “You’ve had a change on a physical level, and you’ve been shown a perspective that very few living people ever see. That’s got to be transformative.”</p>
<p>“Then why am I still doing dumb shit?” Natasha said with a frustrated pout.</p>
<p>“Probably because you’re used to your own guilt and your familiar problems. Inertia, basically. I guess you could call it neurosis. Assuming you’re still damaged, believing you’re unworthy. Waiting for the inevitable self-sabotage through lashing out.”</p>
<p>“Yeah, we talked about that when you first returned. I go back and forth between feeling I’ve changed and fearing I can’t. Every time I do something mean or perverse, or think about it, I wonder if this is it. The slide into the cycle of hurting people, hurting myself. Worst of all, hurting you.” She brought his hand up and kissed it.</p>
<p>“Don’t talk yourself back into your damage,” Steve pleaded. “You’ve been given a fresh start. Go with it, be who you are and can be, not who you were.”</p>
<p>With a little smile, Natasha said, “You know that ‘today is the first day of the rest of your life’ thing? Maybe it’s really true for me, starting the day you brought me back.”</p>
<p>“I believe it. And for me too, even though my change wasn’t as radical as getting resurrected. But I’m committed to the proposition that the past is less relevant than it used to be. The past kills hope for the future. And I am now all about the future. We’re doing a thorough reset.”</p>
<p>“Let’s reset today, too. I went from freaking out to feeling hopeful and happy again,” she said, kissing him on the cheek. “I’ll follow your lead for awhile. You know how to show a girl a good time. What do you want to do now?”</p>
<p>“How about we get dressed, you grab a change of clothes, we go to my place and have a shower? I’ll give you a nice wash, all over,” Steve promised.</p>
<p>“I like your version of squeaky clean fun.”</p>
<p>“It can be sexy or just pleasant, whatever you prefer.”</p>
<p>“I want it all. And later I’ll want some dinner,” Nat declared.</p>
<p>“Oh, right, food. Snacks are also in order after all the exercise this afternoon.”</p>
<p>“You always think snacks are in order. I’m gaining weight hanging around with you all the time,” she mock-complained.</p>
<p>“So?”</p>
<p>That stopped her short. Now that she was healthy as certified by the doctors, and her body was no longer dedicated to being a weapon, it would be sensible to revisit her diet and exercise regime. That Steve expressed a casual attitude toward her appearance was a little confusing. But rethinking her body image and self-care was a project for another day.</p>
<p>“You’re right,” Natasha agreed. “Today, I won’t be hard on myself. Today, we enjoy.”</p>
<p>“And we should enjoy a lot of tomorrows, too. We did our hitch, now we get our reward,” Steve said.</p>
<p>“What’s the reward? A life? Freedom?”</p>
<p>“Both. Plus peace, love, and understanding. All the best stuff.” He stroked her cheek as gently as though she were a hummingbird. “You’re going to be all right. Everything’s going to be all right.”</p>
<p>“I know. We’re safe.”</p>
<p>“I can’t guarantee that forever,” he said, looking down. “No one can. But today, I feel pretty damn good about it.”</p>
<p>“Then I do too. Now I just have to find my clothes,” Nat said, glancing around.</p>
<p>“Well, we know where your socks are.”</p>
<p>Natasha kicked her feet and giggled, and Steve joined in. “Sorry about the bra,” he added.</p>
<p>“Don’t be. It’s one impulse I do not regret. I might have to buy six-packs of cheap bras so you can destroy them regularly. That was awesome.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0043"><h2>43. Party On</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Natasha, Okoye, and Tumeli come to Desta’s place for the inaugural “dangerous women’s club” meeting. Liquor lubricates the conversation and it gets more in depth than any of them had anticipated.</p>
<p>Rating: Mature<br/>Content note: sexual innuendo and references, several F bombs</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Desta Mutombo opened the door to her downtown apartment and welcomed Natasha, who was standing on her doorstep. “You are the first to arrive,” she said in Wakandan as they exchanged casual salutes.</p>
<p>“Twenty minutes after fifteen. I thought I was fashionably late,” Nat pouted.</p>
<p>“By Wakandan standards, you are early,” Desta said with a grin, ushering her inside. Following her guest into the apartment, her grin faded. Though Natasha appeared relaxed and happy, there was something not quite right about her. Des would have to observe further to put her finger on what it was.</p>
<p>“You were annoyed at Shuri and me for being a few minutes late to our first meeting,” Natasha pointed out, turning off her disguiser.</p>
<p>“Wakandan professionals are almost never late to business meetings, but extremely relaxed about social occasions,” Des said. “In general, we are more ‘on time’ than many other African countries, but not as punctual as the norm in Europe and America. The others will turn up soon, I think.”</p>
<p>Within fifteen minutes Okoye and Tumeli arrived, separately. The flat was on the eighth floor of a tower finished just before the Snap. The building had remained shuttered for the duration of the Interim because of reduced need. It was fortunate, however, that it was available after the Blip, providing immediate housing to those Returned whose former residences were occupied. The apartment’s decor and furnishings were modern, even minimalist, reflecting Desta’s short time there and the needs of a War Dog who would often be away.</p>
<p>Desta had laid out a fine spread of finger foods and mixers. Okoye brought the adult beverages: Beluga Noble vodka for Natasha, Uerige Altbier for Tumeli, and Glenmorangie whisky for herself. Desta provided her own locally made palm wine.</p>
<p>“I feel badly about not inviting Shuri to our Sunday cocktail party,” Okoye said, taking a seat in the living room and putting her feet up on a stool.</p>
<p>“We should do something soon that includes her,” Desta said. “But we will be more at ease without her this afternoon.”</p>
<p>“Because she is a royal?” Natasha asked.</p>
<p>“Because she is young, and naive in some areas,” said Okoye. “We have stories that would shock her, especially the ones that will come out after a few drinks.”</p>
<p>“Steve called us the dangerous women’s club, and she is certainly that,” said Natasha. “But I get the gap in understanding.”</p>
<p>“Dangerous Women’s Club. That is a great name,” Des chuckled.</p>
<p>“He can be an amusing fellow,” Nat said.</p>
<p>“Quite. I did not want to like him, but I liked him,” Desta admitted, shaking her head.</p>
<p>“Ah, you met Mr. Holden at the sparring match Friday,” Okoye said. “I wish Tumeli and I had been able to go, instead of the dull meeting we attended.”</p>
<p>Tumeli raised an eyebrow at Okoye. “You found my meeting boring?”</p>
<p>“No one can make vehicle procurement exciting, Leader,” Okoye declared.</p>
<p>“The afternoon was fun,” said Desta. “Always educational to spar with his highness. To have our American associates participate made it even better. Though the experience was humbling.”</p>
<p>Tumeli laughed. “Fighting with Black Panther, even at half strength, is a check on one’s pride. Then you had to go up against Captain America too?”</p>
<p>“I never faced off with him solo, only in tandem with another,” Des clarified. “I was intimidated, but he went easy on me—mostly he evaded or spun me out without throwing me for a fall.” She canted her head toward Natasha. “It was this one who kicked my ass.” Her last three words were in English; no other language she knew had a phrase quite as evocative.</p>
<p>“Ms. Sheen is formidable,” Okoye said knowingly, with a nod to Nat.</p>
<p>“Yes she is,” Tumeli said in English. She sat up straighter and said, “I propose a toast, like the Europeans and Americans do. May your residence in Wakanda be long and fruitful, your days filled with happiness and blessed by Bast.” The three smiled and raised their glasses toward Natasha.</p>
<p>Nat was touched by the gesture, and by the sincerity of their good wishes. “Thank you, dangerous women,” she said with a grin. “I realized on the way over here that today is a minor milestone. Exactly one month since Steve returned to Wakanda. You have made both of us feel at home, and valued.”</p>
<p>She lifted her glass higher. “Wakanda forever!” she exclaimed. The women echoed her and drank.</p>
<p>Desta and Natasha told anecdotes about their afternoon at Joe’s Gym. Then the group indulged in shop talk about technology projects—the ones that Tumeli and Mutombo had clearance to know about. More snacks and drinks were consumed, and occasionally Natasha lapsed from Wakandan into English. The others switched along with her out of courtesy. They all spoke both languages with extreme fluency, though Okoye’s and Tumeli’s English retained the strong local accent. Eventually the discussion became more personal: stories of childhood, school, and travel adventures; others of war, crimefighting, and espionage. Several of the anecdotes definitely would have made Princess Shuri’s eyes widen in shock.</p>
<p>When Natasha returned from a trip to the bathroom, Desta finally figured out what had been nagging at her. She was tipsy enough to reveal it in front of everyone. “We have been instructed by Dr. M’Gaji to keep an eye on you,” she said to Nat, waving an accusatory finger. “Have you gone to see her about whatever is amiss?”</p>
<p>Natasha was cautious. “I’m fine. What makes you think something’s wrong?”</p>
<p>“Come now, confess. Your stride is shorter, your posture different. Were you injured in the sparring?”</p>
<p>Nat was impressed that Mutombo had picked up on the subtle cues. She was being careful, but it was almost impossible to hide even minor injury from a well-trained spy who had time to observe. Now she had to come up with a cover story.</p>
<p>Or not. What the hell, she decided. The truth was easier. It was the first time in years she’d had so much fine vodka—she’d had to swear off drinking for awhile during the Interim or risk liver damage—and even longer since she’d had female peers she felt comfortable confiding in.</p>
<p>“I’m not sick, and I wouldn’t say I’m injured, per se. Just . . . I’ll put it this way: Steve and I have taken another step in developing our relationship. We didn’t leave the apartment from Friday evening through this morning.” She looked coyly around at the women and shrugged.</p>
<p>Okoye burst out laughing, and Tumeli giggled shyly. “Good for you, my friend,” Okoye said. “We are honored that you took time from your busy schedule to join us here, against that competition.”</p>
<p>Uncharacteristically, Desta was slower on the uptake. “I am missing something,” she grumbled.</p>
<p>Okoye mimed obscenely with her hands, provoking gales of laughter from Tumeli and Natasha.</p>
<p>“I see,” Desta said, her voice clipped. Suddenly, she appeared more sober, frowning at Okoye and Tumeli. “Why do you automatically assume she is happy with the situation?”</p>
<p>Turning to Natasha she said, “I feel I must ask: How aggressive is he? Has he really hurt you?”</p>
<p>The other two Wakandans were startled. “Mutombo,” Okoye said sternly. “Do you understand what you are accusing? And whom?”</p>
<p>“She is in pain and was covering it up until I said something. The public personas of the individuals involved are of no relevance. We should determine whether she is in any danger.”</p>
<p>Nat realized that Okoye and Tumeli were informed of the basics of what had happened on Vormir, while Desta was not read in—no need to know. The War Dog had no idea what Steve had gone through to bring her back, nor even that he was the one who had.</p>
<p>Natasha held up a hand and said calmly, “You don’t have to worry.”</p>
<p>Desta looked dubious. “Is he demanding? Do you feel able to refuse him safely?”</p>
<p>“We’re fine, I assure you. Just making up for lost time.”</p>
<p>Des studied Nat’s demeanor, and decided she was telling the truth. “Well. Just so you know: You may believe you are isolated here, far from your former home, but you are not alone. Never hesitate to ask for our help should it be necessary. He may be who he is, but we are who we are. There are more of us, and we have weapons.”</p>
<p>“Thank you for having my back, but rescue won’t be needed. If anyone is sexually pushy in this relationship, it’s me. He is scrupulous about making sure I’m comfortable and feel safe. He really is a good guy.”</p>
<p>“Our Ms. Mutombo is rather wary of men,” Tumeli said, rolling her eyes. She was intent on defusing the conflict. “Mostly because during the Interim, Negasi got the promotion she wanted.”</p>
<p>Desta waggled her finger exaggeratedly in response. “Not true. I have excellent reasons for distrust: I rely on my observations over many years. You only put up with such erratic people because you like to sleep with them.”</p>
<p>Natasha was surprised that Des was at ease enough in her company to reveal, even by implication, that she wasn’t interested in men. Alternative genders and sexual preferences were legal in Wakanda, but people expressing them still tended to be private about their identities.</p>
<p>“Oh, you know they’re not all bad,” Tumeli responded. “You have met him. He is kind and respectful. Rather lucky, considering what it would be like if he were not.”</p>
<p>“How a man—or any person—acts in front of others and what they do behind closed doors can be very different things,” Desta noted.</p>
<p>“True, but we can trust our friend here to have selected a worthy partner. And I think another toast is in order,” Okoye said. The alcohol had left her almost giddy, which Nat found both remarkable and charming.</p>
<p>“To Natasha and Steve,” she announced. “Finally!”</p>
<p>They cheered, and drank up.</p>
<p>Desta seemed mollified. “All right, we’ve confirmed that your man is acceptable,” she said in English. “Now, you must dish.” Okoye and Tumeli nodded their agreement.</p>
<p>How could she get out of giving details? “I shouldn’t kiss and tell,” Natasha said as they all leaned forward. “I’ll just say this. You know the English phrase, ‘He’s more a lover than a fighter’?”</p>
<p>“Sure,” they said, almost in unison. No doubt she would make a joke by reversing the saying.</p>
<p>“That describes Steve,” she said, to their surprise.</p>
<p>“But it doesn’t make sense,” Desta asserted. “He is a legendary fighter.”</p>
<p>Natasha smiled. “Yes,” was all she said.</p>
<p>The other women laughed and hooted, and Tumeli leaned over and gave Nat a high five.</p>
<p>Their good-natured bawdiness was amusing, but Natasha appeared pensive. As they quieted and sipped their drinks, Desta picked up on Nat’s mood. “Though you’re having a good time with your fellow, I think there’s something on your mind.”</p>
<p>“You’re right,” Natasha said. “Honestly, I can’t believe how tender and sentimental I feel about being intimate with him. Never thought it would happen to me.”</p>
<p>“You have loved this man for a long time,” Okoye said.</p>
<p>Nat nodded. Revealing sincere emotions felt more risky than divulging graphic details. I must be drunk to go through with this, she thought. “I’ve always separated sex and love. I figured sleeping together would just be something fun and pleasurable tacked onto the relationship—for me, anyway. But no. The quality of feeling is different now.” She looked around at the other women, hoping they would understand.</p>
<p>Seeing a romantic glow on the face of someone with every reason to be a cynic and skeptic, Tumeli wondered if she would ever find a man who made her feel like that. Desta and Okoye were wistful in a different way, remembering past lovers.</p>
<p>“Sex can be an experience of communion if the situation is right,” Okoye said.</p>
<p>“He and I have been close friends for years,” Natasha said. “As you might guess from my history, I have problems with the whole trust thing. But him I trust completely, and vice versa. We would do anything for each other, and we’ve proved it.”</p>
<p>“Perhaps trust allows you to be open to bonding with him in a way you could not with others,” Desta suggested.</p>
<p>“Maybe. It’s a surprise. I’ve been with a fair number of men and I’ve never had this experience.”</p>
<p>“It is a marvelous alchemy, when everything fits,” said Okoye. “When on both sides there is love, intimate compatibility, friendship, respect, and trust.”</p>
<p>Natasha had a little revelation, and looked over at Okoye. “The whole is more than the sum of its parts.”</p>
<p>“Yes. When love is true, there is magic.”</p>
<p>In the poignancy of the moment, Nat saw the nostalgia in her friend’s face. These were obviously feelings she knew well, yet the relationship that had generated them was lost—to the circumstances of history, and her partner’s hidden flaw. Natasha felt a twinge of guilt at being so happy.</p>
<p>Okoye smiled encouragingly, picking up on her hesitation. “It should be celebrated when such a precious thing comes into being.”</p>
<p>“Precious, and possibly fleeting,” Nat said quietly.</p>
<p>Looking down, Okoye composed herself. Two glasses of Scotch liberated the expression of emotions, whether giddy or gloomy.</p>
<p>“Then you should enjoy love as much as possible each day you have it, shouldn’t you?” Tumeli said, wanting to lift the somber mood.</p>
<p>The older women regarded her hopeful face. “You are right,” Desta said, switching for the moment back to Wakandan. “We should never fret about how long we can cling to happiness. A thing is not beautiful because it lasts.”</p>
<p>Natasha thought she’d heard that last phrase before, in English, but the source eluded her at the moment. She nodded. “I can testify that life is too short to dwell on the past. But that’s something I need to work on. I’ve got a whole lot of past weighing me down.”</p>
<p>“You’re not alone,” Desta said.</p>
<p>The conversation remained in a personal vein as the women shared stories of their lives. It turned out that Tumeli was the only mother present; her parents were raising her little girl in the country. Okoye still hoped to have children one day, Desta was content to age out of motherhood range, and Natasha disclosed her forced sterilization. Over an hour passed with tales of childhood sweethearts, arranged marriages refused, brief blazing affairs, beautiful friendships, joyous weddings, bitter divorces, tragic deaths.</p>
<p>As dinnertime approached, the party wound down. Tumeli and Okoye went home, amid promises that the four would get together again soon. Nat, drowsy, lingered longer; Steve wasn’t expecting her for dinner until nineteen.</p>
<p>Coming back from seeing the two off, Desta dropped back down in her chair. “That was a fun little party,” she said, continuing in colloquial English for the ease of her remaining guest. “I hope you weren’t too offended when I questioned your safety.”</p>
<p>“It’s great to have friends who look out for me,” Natasha responded. “But I wonder why you didn’t take into account Steve’s reaction Friday when he thought I might be injured. Would that guy be hurting me?”</p>
<p>Desta shrugged. “Could have been a performance. I’ve known more than one woman with a man who acted sweet to her in public and beat her in private.”</p>
<p>“Fair enough. I do appreciate that you didn’t take my first assurance at face value. Were our positions reversed, I’d have kept questioning too—I’m generally wary of men. This one is above suspicion, but you couldn’t know that for sure.”</p>
<p>“Indeed. Reputations are often false, so I give them little credence. I also understand that he’s one of the few who might be able to intimidate you.”</p>
<p>“Theoretically, yes. But he’s always on my side, and dedicated to defense and service. I’ve never known him to use violence, or threat, to get advantage for himself.”</p>
<p>“I can think of a time when you were not on the same side,” Desta said archly.</p>
<p>“You got me there,” Nat admitted with a chuckle. “But it wasn’t for long. You’ve obviously read up on Avengers history.”</p>
<p>“Extensively. It’s my business to understand security services and professionals across the world, how they operate, what they might be like as allies or enemies. As you figured out, I had considerable skepticism regarding you and ‘Mr. Holden,’ which does not appear to have been justified.”</p>
<p>“Are you just generally cynical? Or was there something about us you found suspect?”</p>
<p>“It <i>is</i> my default attitude, which I’m sure you can appreciate. In addition, his record seemed way too admirable to be true. And some of your background was . . . disturbing. I wondered if it was exaggerated.”</p>
<p>“Nope. The old stuff is ugly,” Natasha said grimly. “And the facts are actually worse than the reports.”</p>
<p>“I appreciate your honesty. I will also make an honest admission: I’m extra suspicious of pretty people. In my experience, they’re generally less diligent and trustworthy.” Unsure how this confession would go over, Desta watched Natasha’s face closely.</p>
<p>Nat was curious about the attitude, and probed obliquely. “You’d consider both of us good-looking?”</p>
<p>“Well, not necessarily my cup of tea, but each of you has some attractive aspects, and I know how others regard you. I have related misgivings about those in our field who use sexual attraction, and sex itself, in their usual techniques. I realize that for a long time you had little choice in the matter, but prejudice is reflexive.”</p>
<p>“I’ve often used my looks to play people. You roll with what you have, to get the job done. As for actual sex, I was able to scale that way back after I defected. Before, though . . . Nothing was too extreme in service of the motherland.” Natasha sighed and shook her head.</p>
<p>“I would think your past would disturb your current partner,” said Desta. “If he knows much about it.”</p>
<p>“He knows. A lot. All the details in my files, including some that never got released. Fortunately, he said it doesn’t bother him. I believe him, because he also <i>acts</i> like it doesn’t.” As she thought about Steve in relation to her history, she had an impulse to speak a truth about it, for once. Influenced by the liquor, the warmth and openness of the afternoon’s conversation, and her assumption that Des wouldn’t be shocked, she decided not to censor herself.</p>
<p>Natasha gazed down into her highball glass. “The reality is, I fucked a lot of people in the course of various operations. For information, to manipulate, for influence, to seal a deal. A couple of times, to save my life. I’ve done it for transportation when I was stranded, and for money when I’ve been undercover as a prostitute. Off the job, I’ve fucked and been fucked for pleasure, for comfort, out of gratitude, for revenge, or just to feel something other than despair. I have fucked dozens of men and a few women across five continents.”</p>
<p>She looked over at Desta. “And I’m here to tell you, I hadn’t been fucked until I got fucked by this guy.”</p>
<p>“Quite the testimonial,” Desta said, raising an eyebrow. “Do you feel that way because you’re more in love with him than anyone before?”</p>
<p>“To a certain extent,” Nat said. “But even without that, it’s a whole ‘nother level. I wasn’t exaggerating in what I said earlier. I’m damn lucky.”</p>
<p>“Congratulations are definitely in order, then. But, um . . . What did you say about a few women?” Desta asked slyly.</p>
<p>“No dice, lady,” Natasha said, laughing. “I don’t actually swing that way, though I’ve occasionally done what I had to do to achieve an objective. And besides, I’m in a committed relationship now. Though that feels weird to say.” She set her glass on the table. “Have you ever been with a man in the course of, you know, business?”</p>
<p>“Yes. A couple of times I ‘did what I had to do,’ as you said. But my standard MO doesn’t require appeal to men, or to women for that matter. In my home village, many people said I was unlucky to be so plain. But it helps me fade effectively into the background. A great advantage.”</p>
<p>“We use what we have, to the best of our ability. Funny what you said about people considering you unlucky. They might think me lucky, but that’s not how I see it. Once men started becoming attracted to me, my life got even worse than it had been. Over time, in our line of work, I’d say my looks have caused me more trouble than they’ve gotten me out of. In everyday life, on one hand I can see that being pretty has often eased my way. On the other hand, sometimes I’m not taken seriously. On the other other hand, I’m stuck in a certain self-image, and apprehensive about aging. Like many things, it’s a double-edged sword.”</p>
<p>“I think anybody who survives a long time in this profession lives on that double edge of luck,” said Des. “From what I know of your life, you are a very lucky person. Except when you’ve been a really <i>un</i>lucky person.”</p>
<p>“Yep. I’ve been through a lot of bad shit caused by bad luck, but it’s been balanced by incredible good luck. The same event can seem lucky at first and turn out to be unlucky in the end, or vice versa.”</p>
<p>Natasha picked up her glass, which contained one last swallow of crystal-clear vodka. “To you, Des. May your luck stay on the good side.”</p>
<p>Desta reciprocated with her last ounce of milky-looking palm wine. “I salute you too. Though you and your man bother me.”</p>
<p>“Why?”</p>
<p>“Because you challenge my assumptions. You’re foreigners, Americans, great-looking, popular heroes. Yet I like you. Dammit.”</p>
<p>The two dangerous women cracked up, then tossed back their drinks.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0044"><h2>44. Dream On</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Steve and T’Challa have some fun playing at the gym, but the evening takes a serious turn when they discover an intruder who has seen more than he should.</p>
<p>Rating: Teen and up<br/>Content note: none</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Dambu scheduled exclusive use of Joe’s Gym for T’Challa and Steve a few days after the sparring party. As predicted, Art and Joe were happy to accommodate his highness, booking the basketball court one evening after closing and the free weight room for a couple of hours later in the week.</p>
<p>As the king went upstairs to inspect the mat situation at twenty-two on Wednesday, Steve stayed in the office to discuss strength-training equipment. Afterward, Joe had another topic in mind, broached with a bit of bravado. He looked as dignified in a mauve track suit as a pudgy old man could.</p>
<p>“Mr. Holden, I wish to ask a question. How did you know my father’s first name when you were here last week?”</p>
<p>Fortunately, Steve had realized his slipup on the run back to the palace the previous Friday, and an internet search had revealed an out to use if confronted.</p>
<p>“Yeah, you must’ve thought that was weird,” he said breezily. “I’m sorry if I was overly familiar. When I lived in DC several years ago, I saw your dad’s commemorative plaque, the one in the parking garage where his gym used to be. I didn’t remember that until we were leaving. I was in such a hurry I didn’t explain where I’d seen his full name.”</p>
<p>The story was a thin one, barely plausible, but Steve had practiced. He sold the lie well.</p>
<p>“Oh. Was that it?” Joe blinked. “I gotta say, the odds that you visited that garage and remembered my pop’s name seem pretty low.”</p>
<p>“Have you ever met someone who’d seen it? I’d say you were due to run across one, now that more foreigners are coming to Wakanda. The plaque’s in a busy garage in a major city.” Natasha had suggested the speculation and details to make the story superficially more compelling.</p>
<p>Joe was glad there was a mundane explanation, marginal as it might be. He wanted to believe it. “I guess so. Small world, like they say.”</p>
<p>Steve gave him a wide smile. “It sure is. You heading home?”</p>
<p>“I am. Wife’s got dinner waiting for me.”</p>
<p>“How about the cleaning staff? As we discussed, we’ll be testing equipment the public shouldn’t see.” With his shoe, Steve nudged a long metal case he’d carried in. It didn’t actually have anything in it but looked heavy and official with its WDG logo.</p>
<p>“Art had them start early. They’ve cleared out already. I shut down the surveillance cameras up there like you said.” Joe eyed the case. “None of that stuff’s gonna go boom, is it?”</p>
<p>“No worries. No lasers or explosives or anything in here.”</p>
<p>Joe felt a little ambivalent. He didn’t want his place damaged, but on the other hand, the king would pay for it and it would be cool to be able to say, “The basketball court is closed because T’Challa blew it up with a secret weapon.”</p>
<p>“OK then,” Joe concluded. “When you leave, use the front door; it’ll lock behind you. I’ll turn the cams and alarm on remotely, later.”</p>
<p>They said farewell and shook hands before Steve headed upstairs.</p>
<p>Joe waited a minute, then retrieved a sandwich in a plastic bag from the office fridge. He went up to the first floor, opened the front door, and let it shut again with a bang. As he climbed to the second floor, he stepped carefully and quietly. The ballcourt doors were closed but he could faintly hear the two men talking inside and mats being dragged and thumped into place.</p>
<p>Down the hall, he slipped into an equipment storeroom. It also had an entrance into the gymnasium, and he’d left that door open a couple of inches earlier in the day. He tiptoed past racks of items such as mats, balls, and towels. The still air smelled of plastic, rubber, and fabric softener. Easing himself into a folding chair in the darkness, Joe gingerly opened the bag and began to eat his peanut butter and jelly sandwich as he peered through the gap.</p>
<p>The old man’s hearing was dim, though his eyesight was good after cataract surgery the previous year. He was eager to see what whiz-bang weaponry the consultant had hauled in. Even more, he wanted to figure out why that consultant looked like the mysterious man in his childhood dreams.</p>
<p>No weapons were yet to be seen, but Joe didn’t care given the spectacle that unfolded before him. Mats leaned against the walls near the ends of the court. T’Challa and Holden stood in the middle talking, though he couldn’t make out what they were saying. Holden turned on a holographic timer emanating from a communication bracelet and backed to the edge of the court.</p>
<p>“Go!” he shouted, and T’Challa sprinted forward at cheetah speed. He skidded to a stop just before hitting the mats against the wall, spun around and bolted the length of the court to stop at the other wall. Reversing again, this time he launched himself forward in a few great bounds. When he leaped upward to latch onto the folded basketball goal and swing himself atop it, Joe almost choked on a bite of PBJ.</p>
<p>The king jumped off the structure and landed with a boom on the wooden floor, completing his dismount with a somersault and ending up where he began. A grinning Holden met him there, handed him the timer, and slapped him on the shoulder. Joe was surprised at their familiarity. But nothing had prepared him for what he saw next.</p>
<p>T’Challa yielded the floor to the American and gave him a starting signal. The white man performed the same sequence as the king had, at similar speeds. After the dive off the goal, he landed precisely in the center of the court without tumbling, a knee and a fist on the floor to distribute the force.</p>
<p>In the storeroom, the sandwich fell from the old man’s hand as he stared open-mouthed. The stranger had jumped impossibly high and sprinted at speeds matching Black Panther. Now Joe witnessed a scene from one of his dreams, in which the same tall, broad white man dropped from the ceiling of his father’s club into the same pose.</p>
<p>T’Challa raised a victorious fist, calling out delightedly, “I win by two seconds!”</p>
<p>Steve, shaking his head, strolled over to T’Challa. “The exercise is my idea and I lose? This sucks.” The two laughed, and Steve asked, “Want to try to beat our previous times? Or each other’s?”</p>
<p>“Shall we double the sequence? We could also add a jump from the first to the second goal.”</p>
<p>As soon as the king finished his sentence, Steve heard something out of place. A breath? A rustle? His eyes cast down and his face went blank as he listened. T’Challa saw the change in expression and refrained from speaking. Steve scanned 360 degrees and pinpointed the source of the brief faint noises: the door to the equipment room, slightly ajar.</p>
<p>“Come over here and let’s figure it out,” he said in a normal voice, and moved to the hallway door, out of the line of sight of anyone in the storeroom. Good thing I didn’t take off the disguiser, he thought to himself. What the hell is going on?</p>
<p>With a quizzical look, T’Challa followed. Using gestures and mouthed words, Steve explained the situation and suggested a course of action, punctuating the silent discourse with spoken remarks about the exercise. If they went totally silent it might alert the possible intruders.</p>
<p>T’Challa approached the equipment room by following along the wall. Steve crossed the court, ending up on the opposite side of the storeroom, and did the same from that location. They continued to talk as cover, and soon were in position on either side of the doorway.</p>
<p>T’Challa took a fighting stance as Steve abruptly swung the door open wide. Joe, still seated, nearly soiled himself in fright, blinking in the sudden brightness. He jumped up and crashed against a rack as he backed away.</p>
<p>“Mr. Pinkerton, you agreed to provide a secure area with no unauthorized personnel,” the king reprimanded. “Including yourself.”</p>
<p>Joe froze, wincing.</p>
<p>“You told me you were going home,” Steve said ominously.</p>
<p>Joe realized he’d disobeyed his sovereign and possibly violated an important secret. He had also angered two men who could kill him with a single blow—and never have to answer for it. His panic reaction shifted from freeze to flee, and he stumbled blindly toward the hallway door. He knocked over a folded chair and tripped on it, landing hard with a yelp.</p>
<p>T’Challa stepped through the doorway and flicked on the light switch. Joe scooted away on the floor, holding the chair in front of him, a pathetic shield. Over the king’s shoulder, Steve saw the terrified man and realized how much he resembled the timid boy he’d met in 1949. But the child was grown old, and Steve was concerned the man might have a heart attack from sheer fright.</p>
<p>“Jomo,” Steve said soothingly, stepping around the frowning T’Challa and extending a hand. “Calm down. Look, we’re not going to hurt you. We do need to talk.”</p>
<p>Joe stared at Steve, clutching the chair. His alarm was crowded out by wonder. “How do you . . . I haven’t gone by Jomo while I’ve lived in Africa.”</p>
<p>“You are named after Jomo Kenyatta?” T’Challa asked.</p>
<p>“Yeah. My dad admired him. But in East Africa, I thought it would attract too much attention. None of my paperwork for the past fifty years has that name on it, just Joe.” He looked up at Steve. “Who are you? Why do you know my real name? And how the hell did you get into my dreams?”</p>
<p>“Dreams? What are you talking about?” Steve asked, bewildered. Had the man had a stroke?</p>
<p>“Stand up, Pinkerton,” T’Challa ordered. “We must sort out this mess.”</p>
<p>Steve helped Joe get up, and made sure nothing was broken or sprained. They dragged chairs onto the brightly lit ballcourt and T’Challa conducted what amounted to an interrogation. Joe admitted how long he had watched them and what he had seen. He swore by Bast that he’d left the surveillance cameras off. A glance upward confirmed that their function lights glowed red. The king then demanded to know about the dreams he’d mentioned.</p>
<p>Joe explained that in 1949 he’d had a series of dreams over several months, so vivid and unusual that he never forgot them. None ever recurred. The first was of a white man walking into Pinky’s Athletic Club off the street. “This one,” Joe said, pointing a trembling finger at Steve. He remembered the dream as extremely realistic, but no white person visited the gym in Joe’s waking life until the mid ’50s. He’d had several dreams equally real in look and feel but fantastical (to him) in content: the man took an interest in the shy “colored” boy, brought him gifts of books and colored pencils, and praised his drawings and stories.</p>
<p>The other dreams had been stranger. In them, young Jomo hid in a hallway when the gym was closed and peeked through a door, much like he had just done. He saw the same man working out alone, performing feats such as using hundred-pound barbells as dumbbells. In one memorable episode, the man kicked a hanging bag hard enough to tear it loose from its moorings. To reset it, he leaped from a standing position to grab one of the beams supporting the high ceiling—with the 150-pound bag over his shoulder. He hung from the I-beam on one arm, attaching the bag to a hook with the other hand.</p>
<p>The last dream Joe remembered was of the man saying goodbye because he was moving away. Nowhere in the dreams did Jomo ever hear the man’s voice clearly, nor did anyone speak his name. Joe had referred to him in his mind as the Strongman.</p>
<p>“You’re him,” Joe insisted. “I’d bet the gym on it. The beard makes you look older, but you’re almost the same age as he was. Seventy-four years ago.” He regarded Steve with a mixture of wonder and dread. The three men sat in uncomfortable silence.</p>
<p>T’Challa assumed Joe’s long-ago dreams had something to do with Steve’s sojourn in the past. But when he looked over at Steve, it was clear the American understood the mechanism no better than he. How had a split-off timeline “bled” back into the one it split from? And through a boy’s subconscious?</p>
<p>There was apparently little danger that Joe would figure out Steve’s real identity. The face from the gym owner’s dreams and the current Holden disguise matched. But there was a lower-key threat in the unwanted attention the man could draw to Steve by talking about the strangeness he’d witnessed.</p>
<p>T’Challa could feel Steve’s tension, and his glance at him had shown that he was nonplussed. The immediate problem was what to say to Joe to explain away two mysteries. One was a coincidence none of them understood. The second was the foreigner’s extraordinary stunts of this evening, which had an explanation that couldn’t be disclosed.</p>
<p>The king had an inspiration. “Mr. Pinkerton, have you ever shown a propensity for clairvoyance?” T’Challa asked.</p>
<p>Both Joe and Steve blinked at him, confused at the non sequitur.</p>
<p>“You mean, seeing into the future?” asked Joe.</p>
<p>“Yes, or any sort of psychic ability—divination, telepathy, seeing a stranger’s past when you shake hands?”</p>
<p>“Well, there is one thing. When I make big decisions, I usually get some sort of sign about what to do,” Joe said. “A clue in a dream, something a random person says to me, stuff like that.”</p>
<p>T’Challa nodded sagely. “Ah, I am not surprised. I believe you may now be tapping more fully into this talent,” he said smoothly. “It sometimes happens when one attains great maturity. I saw this with my own father, of blessed memory.”</p>
<p>Steve was barely able to keep a serious expression plastered on his face. He himself had no idea what to tell Joe, so he had to be on board with whatever crazy story T’Challa was about to spin.</p>
<p>Joe perked up. “Oh. I did not know that King T’Chaka, may he rest in peace, was psychic.”</p>
<p>“Father experienced both clairvoyance and telepathy, mostly in images. He told me that he had the ability as a child and regarded it as normal. He appeared to lose it as an adult, until a certain age. I am wondering whether you have a similar capacity, but have not realized it.” T’Challa sent a silent prayer toward his ancestors asking forgiveness for the exaggerations. They were in service of a good cause.</p>
<p>“It would explain your image-rich precognitive dreams as a boy, which did not ‘come true’ until now,” T’Challa continued. “The setting for the dreams was your father’s gym instead of your own here, because that was the only reference your young mind had to work with. But the central images of Mr. Holden were remarkably accurate.”</p>
<p>Joe looked pleased. The explanation lent him both an unusual talent and the reflected dignity of sharing a trait with the revered former king.</p>
<p>Steve ventured to chime in. “If your mind is that powerful, it’d make sense if you were able to project thoughts as well. I have no idea why I called you Jomo in there—it just sort of came out. I must’ve somehow picked it up from you. Probably also why I was able to pull out of my memory the writing on your father’s plaque.”</p>
<p>“I suggest you ask Dambu for an introduction to his great uncle, a seer of the River Tribe,” T’Challa said earnestly. “One might call him a shaman. He is renowned for his teachings around such abilities. He could help you develop them.”</p>
<p>“I will certainly do so,” Joe said solemnly, nodding. He looked from one man to the other and his forehead creased. “But my psychic ability doesn’t account for what I saw this man do just now,” he added.</p>
<p>The conversation about Joe’s alleged clairvoyance had given T’Challa time to think of a cover story for the other issue. “Mr. Pinkerton, you have unfortunately stumbled onto a state secret. The Design Group is developing a synthetic Heart-Shaped Herb potion,” T’Challa said. This was both true and widely assumed, though never officially confirmed. “Mr. Holden, at great risk to himself, is testing one of the formulations.”</p>
<p>Steve was glad T’Challa was peddling this fabrication—it was one he’d thought of, but couldn’t use without the king’s permission. He took up the ruse. “There’s a long way to go before the formula is safe, effective, and permanent. The previous version only lasted a few days.”</p>
<p>Joe was fascinated. “Are there side effects?”</p>
<p>“You know too much about this project as it is,” T’Challa insisted. “You must swear on your father’s memory that you will tell no one, including your wife and family members, what you know or have seen in relation to it.”</p>
<p>“I . . . I swear an oath on the honored memory of Michael Pinkerton that I will reveal nothing of this,” Joe said with a gulp.</p>
<p>“Good. You understand the real reason I have required privacy while we are on your premises. We must be able to accurately test what Mr. Holden is able to accomplish, without exposing the project. Now,” T’Challa wound up, “I command you to go home and leave us to our trials.”</p>
<p>“Yes, your highness.”</p>
<p>“And if we see the red lights on those cameras go green . . .” Steve added, pointing upward.</p>
<p>“I promise I won’t turn them on until I’m sure you’re gone,” Joe said hastily.</p>
<p>T’Challa and Steve rose, and Joe stood as well. He left in as much hurry as he could muster, and they watched him silently from the window as he exited the building and crossed the street.</p>
<p>“Good job,” Steve said as they turned away. “I could take storytelling lessons from you. Very believable.”</p>
<p>“You fib quite smoothly yourself,” T’Challa said with a chuckle.</p>
<p>“Think he’ll keep his mouth shut?”</p>
<p>“I do. He may ‘let it slip’ that he is in the know in some way, so he can lord it over his associates. But if he told, the game would end. I may give him fake updates on the supposed testing regime, to keep him engaged. Shuri says we are nowhere near trials for the synthetic formulations, but I have a good imagination.”</p>
<p>“Does Dambu really have a shaman uncle?”</p>
<p>“Yes, an old friend of my father’s. I will ask him to humor Mr. Pinkerton. He will do so, no questions asked. And who knows? Perhaps old Joe does have latent psychic abilities.”</p>
<p>“The dreams he related match what I remember from meeting him—the other version of him—and using Pinky’s gym back then,” Steve mused. “I didn’t wear the Holden mask when I thought I was alone. But I guess he didn’t notice that the private workout face didn’t match the one he saw close up. Or that it did match pictures of, uh, Captain America.”</p>
<p>“It was a long-ago dream and he probably could not see well from his ‘hiding place.’ Frankly, a young black child in a segregated city probably would not discern the difference between two similar white men,” T’Challa surmised.</p>
<p>“That’s helpful, anyhow. But what he told us brings up disturbing questions. This appears to be an example of information transfer across timelines. I hadn’t heard that was possible. And in the split-off timeline I was in, if Jomo spied on me, would what he saw create a problem for him, or that timeline, in their future?”</p>
<p>T’Challa shook his head. “These are matters for our scientists. I encourage you to debrief with Shuri. Perhaps she can offer insights. The information may provide clues for her time travel research.” He smiled. “For now, let us take advantage of the genuinely empty gymnasium. I aim to beat you in the sprint exercise again.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0045"><h2>45. The Advisory Council</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>At The Avengers Organization’s first Advisory Council meeting, attendees are cautious, but all is smooth until Sam decides to bring up a contentious issue: Peter Parker.</p>
<p>Rating: Teen and Up<br/>Content note: brief references to child soldiers, imprisonment, abuse</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This is your occasional note that I'm extrapolating from MCU canon through 2019 only. Ignoring anything that's been established or will be established by new content in WandaVision, Falcon and Winter Soldier, Black Panther 2, Black Widow, Spider-Man 3, etc.  Also iffy on using 100% of the implications of Far from Home—you’ll see in this chapter some stuff that might not jibe. But definitely keeping that Peter's identity is secret until after the events of that movie in early summer 2024.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Hands on his hips, Sam stood looking out a window in the main conference room at The Avengers Organization headquarters. It was a step down from the first-rate meeting spaces of the old compound, reflecting their makeshift situation. Instead of an expensive circular table, six rectangular ones formed a hexagon. The cobbled-together setup would accommodate eight onsite and seven holographic attendees at this first advisory council meeting. Each person in the room would be broadcast holographically to the remote attendees, as they would be to one another. The tech people were doing an admirable job, but the tangle of cables snaking around the room was another change from the past.</p>
<p>Sam wore the prototype of his new uniform, a blue mesh-woven tactical suit with three-quarter sleeves and small white A’s on the shoulders. Red stripes curved horizontally across the chest with a white star in the center. His forearms were covered with blue control panel bands, while he held matching fingerless gloves and wore black high-tech boots. Next to his shield leaning against the wall lay his wing apparatus; he’d open it to show the group its flaglike red and white stripes.</p>
<p>“Hey. I made it here early, boss,” Wanda said behind him. She wore a flowing fuschia dress and a coral cardigan.</p>
<p>He turned and smiled at her as she mock-saluted. “I appreciate that.”</p>
<p>She examined his outfit. “I thought it’d be more like the 2012 uniform.”</p>
<p>“When they told me I was stuck with the flashy name, I argued for a more subdued look. Like it?”</p>
<p>“No helmet?”</p>
<p>“Not as normal gear. There’s a blue crash helmet if operationally necessary. Goggles too.”</p>
<p>Wanda’s eyes followed someone walking by outside. “Pretty cool,” she said, distracted.</p>
<p>Sam raised an eyebrow. “I know you didn’t much care to show up today, but it’s important all of us Actives be on hand for this meeting.”</p>
<p>She looked embarrassed. “Sorry. Just being lazy. Anybody not making it?”</p>
<p>“Janet Van Dyne isn’t feeling well, but Hank will be here on gram. Peter Parker won’t; I discouraged him from showing. I plan to talk about him; would be awkward.”</p>
<p>“Ah. OK.” She failed to follow up with her normal curiosity.</p>
<p>“What’s going on?” Sam asked with concern. “You ain’t just lazy.”</p>
<p>Wanda surveyed the empty chairs, envisioning their occupants, live or projected. “I was trying to get excited about everybody getting together again, as much as we can be. But it’s not working. I’m kind of blah.” She looked out the window. “I really miss Natasha and Cap. Steve.”</p>
<p>“Yeah, I feel ya. Not the same without them.”</p>
<p>“I know you’re doing the best you can. But there’s a gap, a hole somehow. I don’t know exactly why. Experience, for one thing. None of us current Avengers were even here for the past five years. We missed a lot, to say the least. Bruce and Rhodey were around, but they’re not fully active on the team anymore and they don’t, um, inspire the same feeling.”</p>
<p>“It’ll take awhile, but we’ll get past the weirdness of what happened with the Snap and Blip.”</p>
<p>“Yeah. And I’ll get used to you being the leader instead of just part of the team. Eventually.”</p>
<p>“It’s OK to miss people. Openly, even,” Sam assured her. “It’s healthy to grieve.”</p>
<p>She nodded. “With Tony, we at least had the funeral. And, tragic as it was, we know exactly what happened to him; many of us even saw it. With Natasha, we’ve been told the story, but it’s far away, abstract. And then Steve. He and Nat both just disappeared. I mean, you saw him old, but then he left again. Hard to shake the feeling they could walk through the door anytime.”</p>
<p>“That’s why we need the memorial service Tuesday,” Sam said. “To help people with closure, and accepting their own grief.” He studied her face. “I’ve been wanting to ask: Would it would be all right to honor Vision too?”</p>
<p>She looked surprised. “Natasha died in October, and Steve left last month. The Battle of Wakanda was more than five years ago.”</p>
<p>“Not to you, or me, or anybody who got Snapped out, which is more than half of TAO.”</p>
<p>“You’re asking for permission?”</p>
<p>“Didn’t want to spring it on you. You witnessed his murder, and were basically his next of kin.”</p>
<p>Wanda was moved, and struggled not to cry. “Thank you. Yes, please include him. He deserves it. Maybe it’ll help people figure out how to treat me, too. The ones who Remained don’t seem to appreciate how recent it feels for me, and the Returned are walking on eggshells. They remember what I had to do, before Thanos killed him for good. Nobody seems to know how to handle that.”</p>
<p>“I do think this will help. We’ll have brief eulogies for each of the three. Would you want to talk about him, or is that too much? I can ask Bruce.”</p>
<p>“How many people? Will it be streamed?”</p>
<p>“It’ll be solely in person,” Sam assured her. “Just for TAO and advisors who can make it.”</p>
<p>Wanda took a deep breath. “In that case, I can do it. It’ll be difficult, but an honor to speak about him in front of friends.”</p>
<p>“I’m sorry to put you on the spot, but it was only proper to ask you first. Since we’ve been back, I’ve mostly left you be. I figured you need space. Don’t hesitate to reach out for help, though. If you want to talk, or get a referral to counseling, or time off, whatever you need. The time to focus on your health is now, when things are quiet.”</p>
<p>Wanda started to weep, and he didn’t try to stop her. Through her tears, he saw hope in her eyes. “Thank you,” she said. “Your support means a lot.”</p>
<p>“Not just mine. The team and organization owe you. We rely on your abilities and your willingness to advance our overall mission. We’ve got your back. I guarantee that personally.” Sam stuck out his hand. “Shake on it?”</p>
<p>“C’mon, we know each other better than that. I could use a hug. Is that still OK?”</p>
<p>“Sure. Didn’t want to be too forward.”</p>
<p>They embraced each other in friendly fashion. Standing back again, Wanda wiped away the last of her tears and gave Sam a little smile. ”I’m glad you’re here. And that . . . he asked you to be our leader.”</p>
<p>Sam’s jaw tightened, and he looked down. “I appreciate the encouragement. Not getting too much of that.”</p>
<p>“It will get better. And if it means anything, I’ll make it clear you’ve got my support. People don’t know how much you and I went through together, when we were on the run.”</p>
<p>“Your endorsement is super meaningful, Wanda. Thanks.”</p>
<p>They turned toward the doorway as Bucky walked in. Like Sam, he wore his new prototype uniform: a deep red long-sleeved tac suit with black stripes on the torso, white A’s on the shoulders, black gloves and boots. Not a glint of metal showed on his left arm.</p>
<p>“Hey, they finally finished it,” Sam noted. “Lookin’ sharp. Nice haircut.”</p>
<p>“Thanks. Hi Wanda,” Bucky said with a shy smile. “That sweater’s a pretty color. Do we match or clash?”</p>
<p>She chuckled. “This is a little too orangey. You guys look great together, though. But won’t those colors be kinda visible at night?”</p>
<p>“These are for daytime use. We’ll have stealth suits that are more subdued, and the accents dark instead of white,” Sam said. “Even got a set of deep blue wings on order. Good to have a backup anyway.”</p>
<p>“I’d like a star too, but the powers that be want a ‘G,’” Bucky said, looking down at his chest. “I got them to agree to ask the advisory council what they think.”</p>
<p>“Is the Guardian name official?” Wanda asked.</p>
<p>“Done deal,” Bucky confirmed. “We’re all OK with it and apparently it focus-grouped really well, especially paired with ‘Captain America.’”</p>
<p>“I’m against the ‘G’ on the uniform too,” Sam said. “We should downplay the monikers as much as possible.”</p>
<p>“Good luck with that,” Bucky said. “Scott and Hope like theirs, and they match too.”</p>
<p>“I need to have a conversation with them about it. The nicks are dehumanizing, and they encourage the public to view the Avengers as entertainment. This is international security, not showbiz.”</p>
<p>“Why do we need to argue about this?” Wanda asked. “What changed while we were gone? Hardly anybody was using my nickname before the Snap.”</p>
<p>Sam sighed. “I’ve reviewed the records. It’s an old issue. Fury used the catchy names to help sell the Avengers Initiative politically, way back when. Cap—uh, Steve got that shut down inside SHIELD pretty much, and argued to remove nicks from official communiques. But there were elements in the organization all along that wanted ‘em.”</p>
<p>“I bet it didn’t help that Tony really liked being called ‘Iron Man,’” Wanda guessed.</p>
<p>“It did not,” Sam confirmed.</p>
<p>“I was out of the picture for most of this,” Bucky said. “What was it Steve objected to?”</p>
<p>“Same as I’ve been on about, professionalism basically. But his initial goal was to banish the name ‘Black Widow,’” Sam said. “It was used by Natasha’s former controllers, and associated with the roughest parts of her record. So a trigger for her. She pretended it was no big deal, but he figured it out.”</p>
<p>“The witch name bothers me too,” Wanda said.</p>
<p>“Steve and Nat discouraged people from using it around you.”</p>
<p>“Oh. I never knew it was such a thing.”</p>
<p>“They were protective, didn’t want you to worry about it. Now that we’re reinventing the Avengers, I want to get us all aboard the same train.”</p>
<p>“Steve didn’t try to ax his own name, did he?” Bucky asked. “He never complained about it to me.”</p>
<p>“During the war he had no choice, and it was defensible as propaganda. He said it did grate on him later, so he tried to get SHIELD to back off it, but he was stuck. No eliminating ‘Captain America’ after that many decades. As I’m finding out. It’s ingrained in our culture, and even some other countries.”</p>
<p>It was almost 9 a.m., and the local attendees filtered into the room, saying hello and taking their seats: Bruce, Rhodey, Sharon, Scott, and Hope. Sharon pressed a button by the door to activate window shades so the holograms would be bright. The first holograms fired up as a group, all in the same room in Wakanda: T’Challa, Okoye, and Shuri. Four more popped in serially, transmitted from their homes or offices: Hank, Strange, Valkyrie, and Clint.</p>
<p>After greetings and small talk, Bruce welcomed the group formally and told them, “We’ll update you on our main initiatives, then discuss items we’d like input on.”</p>
<p>Sharon briskly went through her agenda: financing (solid), cleanup of the battlefield and headquarters ruins (almost half done), offices and housing (adequate), equipment and transport (inadequate, working on), and staffing (nearly complete).</p>
<p>“Have experts been retained to advise on crisis communication and public relations?” Shuri asked pointedly.</p>
<p>Sharon was surprised that the question came from the young scientist. “We’ve hired a staff communication director. Col. Rhodes will talk more about PR strategies when he discusses the rollout of Captain America and the Guardian.”</p>
<p>Shuri smiled in reply; Okoye looked skeptical.</p>
<p>“Next we’ll hear from Capt. Wilson,” Sharon said.</p>
<p>Sam folded his hands on the table and, without notes, reported on the three field operations Avengers had accomplished in the past six weeks. He requested any information advisors might have on Sarkis or his henchmen, to aid US prosecutors in pressuring them to roll over.</p>
<p>He announced the upcoming memorial, inviting the attendees. His mention of Vision drew a sharp glance from Rhodey. Sam continued, “This service is separate from public commemorations. I hope you’ve all been through the fantastic website to educate people about Natasha and honor her memory. I extend my personal thanks, as well as TAO’s, to Gen. Okoye and her people for their initiative and excellence. And to the Wakandan government for its complete support.” The Wakandans silently acknowledged the appreciation.</p>
<p>Clint was glad he was present only by hologram. Despite his training, he struggled to act natural about Natasha being “dead.” He’d been downright squirrelly during his previous call with Bruce and Rhodey to discuss the long-term memorial plan, but they seemed to accept that grief was expressed in many ways. They were surprised he’d turned down the offer to give her eulogy next week, but just being there was all the deception he felt he could reliably handle.</p>
<p>“We have other priorities at this meeting, but soon we’ll seek your input on next steps in honoring all our fallen comrades,” Sam said.</p>
<p>Bruce was about to take back the floor when Sam put up a hand. “One more item before we move on,” he said smoothly. Rhodey and Bruce frowned and Sharon drummed a pencil nervously on her notepad.</p>
<p>“He couldn’t be with us today, so we have an opportunity to discuss young Mr. Parker,” Sam said. “There’s been talk about moving him to active status, since we’re at only five members. I have no question about his abilities, character, and willingness. He’s proven himself in high-pressure situations. But I object to activating anyone under the age of eighteen. A better cutoff might be twenty-one. We should at minimum comply with the United Nations convention on the rights of children, and its protocol on armed conflict.”</p>
<p>Bruce pursed his lips in annoyance, which looked rather odd with his current face. “We’ve been over this. There’s no issue with the UN agreement. Virtually worldwide, the consensus is that people’s ages will continue to conform to their birth records without regard to the Snap. Peter is twenty-two years old.”</p>
<p>“With all due respect, Dr. Banner, that’s an evasion. In years he’s actually walked around on this planet—in life experience and emotional maturity—he’s seventeen. Still in high school. We have no business deploying him as a combatant.”</p>
<p>“Come on, Sam. He’s Spider-Man,” Rhodey countered. “I remember him kicking both your asses.” The colonel pointed at Bucky and Sam in turn. “I think he was fifteen then. And consider his performance against Thanos’s forces, here and on Titan. He’s seasoned, level-headed.”</p>
<p>“Our asses got kicked very temporarily,” Sam said wearily. “Again, I’m not disputing his prowess or his courage. My point is that none of that matters. We should uphold strict principle on recruitment of kids as fighters.”</p>
<p>“He’ll be eighteen next year, by your reckoning,” Bruce said. “Tony almost made him a full member of the team when he was sixteen.”</p>
<p>“And that was wrong,” Sam said flatly. “It only got close to happening because there was no one around then who would tell Stark ‘no.’ Good thing Peter was the sensible one.”</p>
<p>Stunned silence followed. Dr. Strange broke it. “You believe we should be setting an impeccable example on this issue, I take it?”</p>
<p>“Yes. And we owe it to the members of our team, past and present, who were victims.”</p>
<p>“Avengers who were child soldiers?” Hank asked, startled.</p>
<p>“Not soldiers per se, but certainly combatants. Natasha and Wanda were both forced into service when very young. And by that I mean kidnapped, imprisoned, tortured, coerced. Among former members eligible for reactivation, Nebula was treated even worse, and who knows how old Rocket was when he was physically modified without his consent. I also include Pietro Maximoff, who would have continued on the team had he not been killed in action. We should stand in solidarity with all our comrades who were abused when underage, by taking a hard line.”</p>
<p>“It’s not anything like the same, Sergeant,” Rhodey exclaimed, exasperated. Bucky and Shuri exchanged a glance at the use of Sam’s old rank.</p>
<p>“He’s volunteering,” Bruce interjected. He managed to sound whiny, an impressive feat coming from such an enormous body.</p>
<p>“Still doesn’t matter,” insisted Sam. “Every branch of the service could sign up some gung-ho sixteen-year-old volunteers. They don’t because it’s wrong, and we shouldn’t either. You can’t assume they have the emotional maturity to make that decision. They’re kids.”</p>
<p>“Peter isn’t your average kid,” Rhodey pointed out. “And he’s not joining the armed forces. We won’t hold him to a hitch. He’s free to leave.”</p>
<p>“He wouldn’t quit, because he feels a sense of responsibility. We should help him navigate that. Yes, he’s highly intelligent. He needs to get a proper education, and the life he deserves. What we shouldn’t do is just use him for his super skills. Even for a few months.” Sam folded his arms.</p>
<p>Wanda and Clint, remembering Pietro, looked melancholy. Bruce and Rhodey were annoyed, and unsure of the advisors’ opinions. The rest were considering the issue, or had made up their minds and were curious to see the power struggle play out.</p>
<p>Bucky cleared his throat. “Uh, Captain, I dunno whether this means anything now. But I talked with Steve about Peter after Tony’s funeral. He was adamant that, no matter what Spider-Man had done, he shouldn’t be a real Avenger until he got out of college. Not just high school. Training for the future, sure, but no missions.”</p>
<p>Sam had considered mentioning Steve’s position, but he didn’t want to appeal to Cap’s moral authority. Sam needed to establish his own clout, not co-opt Steve’s. It was slick of Bucky to slip the reference in. No one would question it from him.</p>
<p>“So he thought we should wait four years?” Hope asked.</p>
<p>“Longer. Peter needs to go to grad school,” Bucky explained. “Though Steve said he might negotiate a part-time schedule at some point, because Peter’s really committed to being a superhero.” He looked down and frowned. “I wondered at the time why Steve was speculating, instead of affirming what he planned to do as team leader. I didn’t know then he wasn’t going to be here.”</p>
<p>Sam suppressed a smile. He and Bucky had a good connection and he felt lucky to have him at his side. He was pleasantly surprised at how his deputy was coming along. Barnes was smarter, more subtle, and less damaged than he’d given him credit for. He was adjusting to his role and beginning to thrive. Maybe Steve had been right in his letter to his friend: a clear purpose and Sam’s steady, upbeat influence would be better for Buck than the presence of an old buddy who’d be consistently miserable.</p>
<p>“Look. We’ve spent several minutes on this already and it wasn’t even on the agenda,” Rhodey complained. “How about this, Sam. You write up your views on Parker, and I’ll pull together the opposite position. We’ll send them around to the council.”</p>
<p>“Sure thing,” Sam said earnestly. “A good exercise. However, I’ll point out that the question is not subject to an approval vote.”</p>
<p>“That’s right. It’s up to TAO leadership.”</p>
<p>“Ultimately, it’s up to me.”</p>
<p>Rhodey’s face went blank, Bruce’s massive jaw dropped open, and Sharon kept her gaze down on her folded hands. The rest stared at Sam.</p>
<p>“As it stands, you and Bruce provide TAO overall direction and deal with governments and other organizations. Sharon administers operations and staff. I am CO of the Avengers. I wanted to air this out so when I tell Peter he’s not coming on board anytime soon, everyone understands the premises I’m working from.”</p>
<p>Rhodey frowned. “We’re gonna need to discuss this, Sam. You don’t have carte blanche to decide who’s an Avenger and who’s not.”</p>
<p>“Carte blanche is a loaded term. As we decide how TAO is going to move forward, under US and international scrutiny, it’s my duty to carve out my lane. In the past, from what I can tell, there was often ambiguity about who could decide what. Fury? Rogers? Stark? While a bunch of us were gone in the Interim, Romanov was in charge, with Rogers backing her up. We need to be at least that clear.”</p>
<p>“As previously discussed, your scope of authority is as field commander,” Rhodey said tightly.</p>
<p>“Yes. I have also been given responsibility for the training program and for mission assignments. Therefore I say who’s eligible to engage in operations, for both the elite team and the strike force commandos. I will allow Peter Parker to train with us only if we ensure it doesn’t interfere with his studies or a normal social life. I will <i>not</i> assign him any missions until he has at least eighteen years of actual living under his belt, because I regard that as the only ethical position. In the future, we need an agreement between him and TAO on how he can serve while advancing his education.”</p>
<p>“You could have hashed this out with us offline instead of here,” Bruce rumbled.</p>
<p>“Or how about this: When I said yesterday that we should wait to put Peter on the team, you guys could have answered, ‘Yes, Captain’ instead of blowing me off.”</p>
<p>Sam let that sink in.</p>
<p>“This is an appropriate topic for the council to hear about,” he continued. “These folks didn’t accept seats here so they could put it on their resumes. We have an extraordinary group offering their time, expertise, and judgment. We should use that to its fullest.” Sam leaned back in his chair and swept a hand sideways. “I yield the floor.”</p>
<p>T’Challa, Shuri, and Okoye traded sidelong glances and smiled almost imperceptibly.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0046"><h2>46. Stepping Up</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Rating: Teen and Up<br/>Content note: none</p>
<p>As the Advisory Council meeting winds down, it becomes clear to all the Avengers and ex-Avengers on hand that Sam Wilson has strong ideas on the future of the team and his role.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>In the silence that followed Sam’s monologue, several of the attendees were surprised—but in a good way. They were impressed with his demeanor, composure, and intelligence. He inspired confidence, even in those who were only seeing him holographically.</p>
<p>Rhodey picked up his tablet device. “Thank you, Capt. Wilson. Let’s get back to the agenda. Skip down to the rollout of Captain America and the Guardian. Seems appropriate,” he said, with just a little shade.</p>
<p>He’d already calmed down considerably from his annoyance about the Parker issue. Rhodes realized he needed to loosen up and let Wilson find his level, which apparently was going to be higher than either he or Bruce had envisioned. The new Cap had been so long in the shadow of the old Cap that it was easy to underestimate him.</p>
<p>“We fumbled the initial introduction at the press conference,” Rhodes acknowledged. “The bombshell revelations have exploded and we’ve been weathering the fallout, plus the fact that a couple of major media outlets seem to have a grudge. Regardless, we have to move forward. We’ve retained Hendriks and Cisneros, the PR firm we used in the past. Very well regarded, if even more expensive than they used to be. We met with them, and they’ll have a strategic communication plan drawn up within a few days.”</p>
<p>Shuri interrupted. “Who was in the meeting?”</p>
<p>“Our new comms director, me, Wilson, and Barnes. Two days ago.”</p>
<p>“Good. Do you wish advisors to send you suggestions before you meet with the firm again, or will you distribute the plan for review?”</p>
<p>“Well, uh, if you’re interested in the details—”</p>
<p>“Indeed we are, Colonel,” T’Challa put in. The attendees fell silent, still marveling that a head of state was participating in their meeting. “This is no routine internal matter, but a situation profoundly affecting the international security community.”</p>
<p>“I understand, your highness. If you have ideas or concerns, please shoot them my way. That goes for everybody. H &amp; C suggested we relaunch by posting a video introduction with Wilson and Barnes on social media. Next will be a video Q &amp; A with them, using approved questions asked by handpicked reporters. That’ll be available to mainstream news media and key online outlets.”</p>
<p>To stifle laughter, Shuri bit her lip, Okoye gritted her teeth, and T’Challa covered his mouth and coughed. They were amused because they remembered Natasha spitballing exactly the same tactics the day of the disastrous news conference.</p>
<p>“Another thing the PR folks recommended, and we heartily agree with, is that TAO not chase ‘likes’ or trends or social media engagement numbers. This isn’t show business,” Rhodey affirmed.</p>
<p>Sam shot a glance at Wanda, and she smirked in reply.</p>
<p>“They advise as honest and transparent an image as we can present. Over-communicate, especially up front. When people are more comfortable with Sam and the current Avengers team, we can pull back and just release real news, which we’ll have plenty of,” Rhodey finished.</p>
<p>“Is it a good time to bring up my uniform?” Bucky asked.</p>
<p>Rhodey turned the floor over to Barnes, who modeled his new threads and asked for opinions about a star or a G at chest center. Sam, a little reluctantly, showed off his suit, wings, and shield as well.</p>
<p>“I’m against the G because, like Col. Rhodes said, we’re not entertainers,” Sam emphasized as he sat down again. “For the rest of the team, I’d like to see no monikers at all.”</p>
<p>“But Ant-Man and the Wasp are fun,” Scott said, pouting. Hope looked thoughtful.</p>
<p>“Exactly,” Sam said. “We’re not <i>supposed</i> to look fun. We’re pros; this is life-and-death stuff. TAO shouldn’t encourage people to view us like an Avengers reality show. As King T’Challa pointed out, we matter to international security.”</p>
<p>“So what would Scott and I be called?” Hope asked.</p>
<p>“Avenger Hope Van Dyne, Avenger Scott Lang. I know your nicknames have a pedigree. I’m the last person who wants to denigrate the efforts of the Pyms. Their genius gave us not only the miniaturization tech but the foundation of the time apparatus, and much more.” He glanced at Hank, who looked interested, not upset.</p>
<p>“But consider whether the insect theme is a good idea going forward, especially as part of a larger team. Your suits have amazing capacities that match those names, sure. But you have abilities that have nothing to do with technology. Fighting skills, espionage skills, pilfering skills, investigative skills. Courage, and willingness to serve the greater good. I think ‘Avenger’ says all that, or should.”</p>
<p>Hope had to suppress a smile when she heard “pilfering skills,” but Scott seemed oblivious.</p>
<p>“Easy for you to say. You get to be Captain America,” he asserted.</p>
<p>“Not my choice. We’re stuck with that name, but I intend to deemphasize it as much as possible. And my main man here has to have a nickname that matches, or it sounds awkward when we’re talked about together. I’d be happier to be just ‘Sam Wilson, captain of the Avengers.’ But no dice.”</p>
<p>“I’ll follow Cap on this,” Wanda said. “I’m good with ‘Avenger Maximoff.’ I don’t want to be called any kind of witch.”</p>
<p>“Uh, we’re getting off track here,” Rhodey said tentatively.</p>
<p>Sam ignored him. “Let’s consider our eventual recruits. Could be enhanced humans, people from away like Valkyrie, or ordinary Earthlings with an extraordinary skill that fits our needs. I don’t think we ought to be making up catchy names for anybody new. Leave that to the comic books.”</p>
<p>Bruce’s face lit up a brighter green. “Oh, that reminds me. We got a great proposal yesterday afternoon. The publisher that put out the Captain America comics way back in the ‘40s wants to do a new series.”</p>
<p>Sam’s eyes bugged. “Oh <i>hell</i> naw,” he blurted out. “Steve said these people come after him—us—every time we have a management change. He got SHIELD to turn them down, then Stark Industries. Ain’t no way TAO should go for it.”</p>
<p>Rhodey shrugged, and Bruce remained animated.</p>
<p>“I don’t know, Sam,” Bruce said. “They’re pitching a Professor Hulk series, too. Sounds like fun. We’d get input on the storylines, they said. Good PR. And if the comics were successful, there might be TV or movies—”</p>
<p>“Bruce!”</p>
<p>“What if we had final say on content?” Banner asked, squinting at him.</p>
<p>“No!” Sam looked around at the circle of mostly perplexed faces. “Guys, help me out here. This is a bad idea.”</p>
<p>“He’s kidding,” Rhodey said, rolling his eyes. “We won’t do it. Though I’m not gonna lie, comic books and associated media would be a great way to reach the general population with positive messages about TAO. However, it’d be the wrong avenue for an organization that wants to be taken seriously by governments.”</p>
<p>“Ya think?” Sam exclaimed.</p>
<p>“Speaking of which . . .” Pleased with pulling off his joke, Bruce settled down again. He began an update on the co-directors’ negotiations with government agencies. He confirmed that the time machine would remain on lockdown for the foreseeable future.</p>
<p>“It will probably only be used under tight oversight protocols, if ever,” he told them.</p>
<p>The group knew that the Sokovia Accords had been a dead letter for years, given the events of the Battle of Wakanda, further emphasized by the Battle of Earth. The UN member nations recognized that in emergencies there was no time for seeking authorization, and that the service of extraordinary individuals was extraordinarily valuable. “The new agreement will be simpler,” Bruce said. “There will be some limitations up front, mostly countries that insist our scope within their borders be curtailed.”</p>
<p>T’Challa politely raised his hand. “Wakanda’s United Nations representative is involved with the negotiations, which I have monitored. We will endeavor to persuade certain nations to reduce or eliminate their demands regarding Avenger operations,” the king said. “If you are having problems with a particular country, please let me know and we will bring influence to bear.”</p>
<p>Bruce was wide-eyed. “Uh, that is very generous, your highness.”</p>
<p>“We feel it is in everyone’s best interest,” T’Challa said smoothly.</p>
<p>“Thank you. The theme we’re working toward is accountability on the back end,” Bruce continued. “We aim to ask forgiveness and not permission. A huge part of what we’re negotiating is about collateral damage—lives lost, property destruction. How much legal or financial liability we’d have as an organization, in what circumstances.”</p>
<p>Valkyrie spoke up. “New Asgard is in talks with Norway about becoming autonomous. We’re close to an agreement; as usual, it comes down to money. Right now I’m dubbed ‘king of New Asgard,’ kind of jokingly. I’ll have to figure out a real title if we pull this off. In any event, I hope we’ll become a player, if a tiny one, on the international scene within the next several months. Keep us in mind if there’s any way that can help TAO’s position.”</p>
<p>“Wow, that’s great, your majesty,” Bruce enthused. “I hope to congratulate New Asgard soon on being its own country. We sure appreciate your willingness to help.”</p>
<p>“Since I have the floor, I’d like to say I agree about sticking with our real names. I’ve become known as Valkyrie because I’m the only one of us left. But my name is Brunnhilde, so if you’d change references to me in your communications, I’d appreciate it.”</p>
<p>Rhodey was about to respond when Strange chimed in.</p>
<p>“Maybe I don’t have a dog in this fight, as they say, because my real name sounds made up. But I also agree on the no-nickname policy. Besides Cap and the Guardian, I think the only Avengers, and once and future Avengers, who should use a nickname are those whose identity is secret to the public. At this point, just Spider-Man. And I’m guessing within a couple of years someone will out him, or he’ll decide to reveal himself. Probably sooner.”</p>
<p>“Thank you, Brunnhilde, Doctor,” Sam said. “Seems like there’s some momentum on this front.”</p>
<p>I’m gonna have to get up early in the morning if I want to outmaneuver Wilson, Rhodey thought to himself. This isn’t a hill I need to die on, though.</p>
<p>“Maybe, but that question is still in play. We’ll table it for later,” he said aloud. “At the moment, I’d like to move on.”</p>
<p>Rhodey confirmed that the UN had unanimously approved a resolution affirming pardons for all Avengers, current and former, who’d been charged with crimes. “I’m happy to report we’re all starting with a clean slate.”</p>
<p>He outlined preliminary ideas for 2024 events on the anniversary of the Blip and the Battle of Earth. “We envision a commemoration at the battlefield, and hopefully by that time we can use our new headquarters. There will definitely be a public ceremony honoring Natasha, Tony, and the non-Avengers who gave their lives that day.”</p>
<p>“I have agreed to spearhead planning for the commemorations,” Okoye announced. “Wakanda offers its resources of personnel and technology. Advisors are invited to contribute. Let me know if you wish to do so. I will be at TAO headquarters in person this coming Tuesday as Wakanda’s representative at the private service. I will be available to meet for any reason.” Rhodey effusively thanked her.</p>
<p>Clint began to doubt his suspicion that Natasha was in Wakanda. Would Okoye be so committed to the official mourning for her if she were there? And surely Nat wouldn’t be in the country without telling her best Wakandan friend?</p>
<p>“Next up is the letter that Rogers sent the organization as a whole. You’ve all been provided a copy. The main issue is whether to use excerpts in our public communications. We’ve gotten many questions about his reasoning and state of mind, both concerning his departure and designation of Wilson.”</p>
<p>“I think we should use the hell out of it,” Clint said. Several people’s heads swiveled in surprise, since he’d been so quiet. “Put the whole thing out there. Hits all the high points and it’s very Stevelike. People would eat it up.”</p>
<p>“Duly noted,” Rhodey said. “Some of you have already contacted me about this; feel free to do that after the meeting too. Our PR experts will also weigh in. Anyone have questions about the letter?”</p>
<p>Sam paused in case someone else spoke up, then proceeded. “The shield he handed over apparently came from Wakanda, but he gives no details. Is that something you can talk about?”</p>
<p>Shuri filled the group in on the history of the shield, glossing over exactly how Steve obtained it to give to Sam. “In the days before we were closely involved with the Avengers, making the shield was a way we could contribute to the mission. Now we have even more investment in the enterprise.”</p>
<p>“As a backup in case of loss or accident, we would be willing to fashion another shield—if it is warranted,” the king offered.</p>
<p>There was dead silence. Everyone in the room realized the value of that much vibranium, plus the time and tech invested. No one seemed prepared to answer.</p>
<p>“Your highness, I will certainly take you up on that,” Sam said finally. “Wakanda continually improves its technology. The current shield is a wonder. The next edition may let me fly without my wings.”</p>
<p>Everybody chuckled. Shuri held up a fist and declared, “Challenge accepted!” sparking a few guffaws.</p>
<p>“It makes my heart glad to hear good cheer in this room,” T’Challa interjected. “The past few months for all of us, whether Remainers or Returners, have been very stressful. I and my colleagues here in Wakanda have appreciated the updates today and on a continuing basis. What can we, and other council members, do to improve the well-being and readiness of the team and staff?”</p>
<p>“I’ve discussed with the directors the possibility of a mentorship program,” Sam said eagerly. “Any advisor who’s willing would be paired with an active or activatable Avenger. The pair would talk on a regular basis and meet for training. After a year or so we’d switch out. We all have something to teach each other.”</p>
<p>Wanda raised her hand. “I’m all about it. I even know who I’d like to train with first.”</p>
<p>Clint put his hand up. “I’m on the retired list but I’m happy to pitch in as a mentor.”</p>
<p>“Janet and I too,” Hank volunteered.</p>
<p>“It’s just a concept at this point, but we’d like to gauge interest. You can contact me—” Rhodey broke off when everyone else in the room raised a hand. Laughter ensued.</p>
<p>“I guess that’s a yes on the mentoring,” Sharon said, drawing a big check mark on the agenda on her touchscreen.</p>
<p>“I say Sam gets stuck being Peter’s mentor in the first round,” Rhodey said with a twinkle in his eye. “It’s your idea, so you’re the one who has to follow Tony.”</p>
<p>“That young man requires sterner stuff than me. He needs a Guardian.” Sam pointed at Bucky. “Barnes might be able to wrangle him.”</p>
<p>“I ain’t afraida no Spida-Man,” Bucky said gruffly in a thick Brooklyn accent, to more chuckles. “But seriously, he should train with Dr. Pym first. Encourage him to use his brain, maybe develop new materials and other tech stuff, not concentrate on field ops.”</p>
<p>Amusement ceased and everyone stared at him.</p>
<p>“That’s . . . a really good idea,” Hank said.</p>
<p>“You’re smarter than you pretend to be, Bucko,” Sam remarked. Barnes smiled serenely.</p>
<p>“I’ve got another idea that would make me feel better,” Sam added. “I’d need cooperation from the directors on it, and the advisors could help a lot.”</p>
<p>Jeez, what’s he going to spring on us now? Rhodey wondered. Wilson had certainly gotten over his tendency to be tentative and defer to authority.</p>
<p>“We need to improve our communication with armed forces around the world,” Sam began. “We do OK in my experience with talking to law enforcement, but not the military. For example, we could have requested airstrikes from nearby countries in the Wakanda battle. Additional airpower could have been brought to bear in the Battle of Earth, from the US and Canada. The only reason we weren’t overwhelmed that day was because of Wong and Dr. Strange; their portals brought enough allies there in time. We can’t count on that being available always. Looking back, we should’ve avoided issues like the Air Force firing a nuke at New York City. Over the years, coordination could have been much better.”</p>
<p>Clint frowned and said, “Easy to be a Monday morning quarterback. You realize you’re criticizing not only Fury, Stark, and the other powers that be, but also your predecessor.”</p>
<p>“That’s true,” Sam said, nodding. “I am. We around this table knew Steve better than anyone else. I’m sure we agree he was an effective leader. He was good enough that it’s easy to remember him as perfect. But let’s not pretend he was. No matter what people on FaceTwit say.”</p>
<p>“‘Effective leader’ is perhaps damning with faint praise,” T’Challa said sternly.</p>
<p>“Please don’t get me wrong, your highness. I regarded Steve as a friend, and I’d call him a great man. An inspirational leader I would have followed to the gates of hell if need be.”</p>
<p>Sam looked around and read the expressions on fourteen faces, some in the flesh and some as 3-D images. “Yeah, it’s time we talk about this. The elephant in the room,” he said, sitting up straighter.</p>
<p>“No question that Steve had abilities and aptitudes I don’t have. I’m still getting my head wrapped around the fact that he’s gone, that he left me the shield, and the responsibility. His exit was not well thought out, I’ll say that straight up. Don’t know exactly what was happening with him; the open letter’s pretty vague. The one he wrote me is more personal but doesn’t give much more insight. He was under pressure because he’d figured out the time machine was gonna go bye-bye quick. PTSD and suppressed grief may have been issues.</p>
<p>“But no matter what I think of how it went down, he made it clear he believed in me. I will never stop being honored by that. He knew that I have my own set of abilities, my own ideas and plans. I have to be the Captain America <i>I </i>can be, not imitate him. And I have a big advantage in my right-hand man here.” He turned toward Bucky, who gave him a supportive nod.</p>
<p>“My left arm is the cool vibranium one though,” Bucky said, waving it. “Maybe I oughta be your left-hand man.”</p>
<p>“Sure. On my left. I guess it’s a tradition,” Sam said. He blinked and stared at the table a few moments as a brief sting of tears surprised him. Then he looked around at the group silently awaiting his next words, and smiled.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0047"><h2>47. Dinner with Friends</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Rating: Teen and Up<br/>Content notes: none</p><p>T’Challa, Okoye, and Shuri discuss with Natasha and Steve the Avengers meeting. It sparks revelations about Wakandan time travel research and controversy about the role of their American associates.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>In the palace conference room in Wakanda, Shuri reached over and tapped the control for the triple hologram generator to turn it off. The contraption had beamed an image of the conference room at Avengers HQ onto the retinas of the Wakandan attendees so they’d felt almost as though they were there. The setup had allowed images of T’Challa, Okoye, and Shuri to be transmitted so that all the other meeting attendees could see their upper bodies as they sat at the table; the rest of the palace conference room was not visible remotely.</p><p>Which was convenient, since Natasha and Steve were sitting next to them.</p><p>“Is the audio also terminated?” T’Challa asked.</p><p>“No one can hear or see us now,” Shuri confirmed.</p><p>“What did you think?” Okoye asked the Americans. Steve looked chipper, but Natasha was pensive, even sad. They both rested their arms on the conference table and he had covered her hand with his.</p><p>“It was great to hear everyone’s voices,” Natasha said wistfully. “Wish we could have seen them. Especially Wanda. I worry about her.”</p><p>“I will have Tumeli request a video of the meeting as seen in the headquarters,” Shuri promised.</p><p>“Wanda sounded strong, at least,” Steve said. “According to the operations summary, she hasn’t been included in missions. I think Sam’s treating her with kid gloves.”</p><p>“No doubt,” Okoye said. “I was surprised she was present. She appeared downhearted at first, but became more animated. Opposite to my experience in long meetings.”</p><p>“Wonder how much they paid the PR firm to come up with the same ideas you did, for introducing Sam and Bucky,” Steve said to Nat, patting her hand.</p><p>“Maybe I’ll start a side business,” she said with a half-hearted smile. “I’ve got no credentials, but that’s never stopped me before.”</p><p>“Clint appeared bewildered after I spoke about the memorial,” said Okoye. “If he still assumes you are in Wakanda, that does not fit with my leadership in the matter.”</p><p>“Good to keep him confused about my whereabouts,” Nat said. “Thank you for agreeing to give my eulogy, by the way. That sounds so odd. Will you repurpose the tribute we came up with for the website?”</p><p>“No, everyone there will have read it. This one is to be less than five minutes, and I will make it more personal. We could post the video on the site as well.”</p><p>“I’d like that,” Natasha said.</p><p>“I’m glad the whole Wakandan contingent was there,” Steve said to T’Challa. “It elevated the proceedings.”</p><p>“We three will take turns attending in the future, but I thought it important for all to participate initially,” the king replied. “The updates were valuable, and it was enlightening to observe the interactions. I was somewhat annoyed at Capt. Wilson’s characterization of you, and his indirect rebuke.”</p><p>“I appreciate your going to bat for me, but honestly, I thought all that was great.”</p><p>Everyone looked puzzled, and Shuri asked, “Why do you say that?”</p><p>“Sam’s a realist. To the point of cynicism on some counts. He’s been disillusioned over the years by various organizations, authority figures, and personal heroes. So when he finds somebody who doesn’t disappoint him, his loyalty becomes extra strong. I was concerned that his loyalty to me could be paralyzing. It was good to hear that he’s got a realistic view of my flaws and faults, and he’s not afraid to express them. That’s healthy. It’ll help him learn from my mistakes, which is also good for the team.”</p><p>“You understand the bigger picture and not only the personal angle,” Okoye said approvingly.</p><p>“Now that I’ve disappointed him too, at least to some extent, he can see me more clearly,” Steve mused. “Maybe it’s a good thing I pissed him off, if it helped free him to assert himself.”</p><p>“I feel better about the Avengers situation than I did a few weeks ago, to be honest,” Natasha said. “It’s now easier to let go, at least professionally. Seems like they really <i>don’t</i> need us. What went down in the meeting was heartening on that level. Hearing it made me miss everybody, though.”</p><p>Shuri looked at the digital clock over the door and pushed her chair back. “Dinner will be served soon. Shall we repair to the dining room, your highness?” she asked with a mock bow.</p><p>A few minutes later, the five stood around the table in the private dining room in T’Challa’s apartment. Okoye was accorded the honor of giving the blessing, in the local language. All crossed their arms over their chests as though sustaining a Wakandan salute.</p><p>“We hail our illustrious ancestors, who guide us from the afterlife. We give thanks to Mother Earth for the food that nourishes us, and to the divine realms for the safety and comfort we currently enjoy. May mighty Bast continue to watch over us; we ask that she protect these honored guests as well. May we who have health, strength, knowledge, and influence wield our power to serve those not so blessed. Through our humble efforts, may we uplift our beloved country and the whole world.”</p><p>“Let it be so,” the others answered.</p><p>The Wakandans smiled and took their seats, prompting Steve and Natasha to do the same. “That was lovely,” Steve remarked. “Was the wording typical?”</p><p>“Okoye did a particularly good job, as usual, but the meal blessing usually contains similar elements,” Shuri informed him.</p><p>“I am embarrassed that this is the first time you and Natasha have dined with us,” T’Challa said. “It is important to ‘break bread’ with friends, as I believe the phrase goes.”</p><p>“Breaking bread” this evening turned out to be a multicourse meal of African foods, both humble and exalted, including beef luwombo (a stew cooked and served in banana leaves), grilled tilapia, the classic maize ugali, sauteed greens, and Ugandan groundnut sauce on the side. Hungry Steve was a happy camper; he made a note to himself to congratulate Chef Gana.</p><p>The dinner conversation started off on casual topics and drifted gradually back to shop talk.</p><p>“It was good to have confirmation that the time travel technology developed by Mr. Stark and the Avengers has been sequestered,” T’Challa said. “Not only because there are many who would wish to steal it. Even though we do not affect our present by changing the past, its use is not consequence-free. When we meddle in the past for our own purposes, as we did with the Infinity Stones, we create other timelines and affect the inhabitants thereof. We should take great care when we consign this alternate world and its beings to unforeseeable consequences. It should only be done to avoid catastrophe for our own world,” he said emphatically.</p><p>Steve concentrated on spooning up more delicious stew, stalling for time within the conversation, which had suddenly become uncomfortable. T’Challa had questioned his judgment in returning to the past, but it sounded like he’d underestimated the level of disapproval. What would the king say if he knew all the details of Steve’s short yet fateful time on Vormir?</p><p>Steve nudged the conversation onto a tangent. “What about the report on the espionage that Hope and Scott carried out? It’s unsettling that a private company is pursuing time travel.”</p><p>“From what Capt. Wilson said, I assume the suspicion was found to be justified. We will request access to the intelligence,” Okoye said.</p><p>“Now that the concept has been proven workable, I fear we will see many entities attempting to create time machines,” Shuri declared. Turning to Okoye, she added, “It is fortunate that you directed the Design Group to continue work on our ideas while I was . . . gone. Now that I have studied and incorporated the clues our associates here provided us, we are close to a breakthrough.”</p><p>“Experiments with multicellular organisms?” Natasha said breathlessly.</p><p>“Not quite that far. But we have produced a Pym particle substitute that appears to be stable and with ongoing function. No need to destroy particles through usage; therefore travel is not limited by their availability and one doesn’t have to carry multiples.”</p><p>“The crystallization worked? You hadn’t told me,” Natasha pouted.</p><p>“I haven’t seen much of you during the past week or so,” Shuri said. “You come in for scheduled meetings but always seem to rush off before I can catch you for a private conference.”</p><p>“Oh, yeah, I’ve been pretty busy,” Nat said offhandedly.</p><p>Okoye looked down to keep from giggling. She risked a glance at Steve across the table from her. He was again steadily eating with his eyes fixed on his plate, and she detected a hint of a blush above his beard. He was indeed endearing, she thought, and resolved to steer the conversation to help him out.</p><p>“Shuri, didn’t you want a detailed scan of Mr. Holden? To look for any physical system alterations caused by repeated time trips.”</p><p>“Yes, I do. We didn’t find anything obvious after checking Natasha’s scans, though she only made two trips,” Shuri said. “And she experienced . . . other phenomena. Unfortunately we don’t have baselines for her. Steve, how many time trips have you made?”</p><p>“Um. Fifteen, I think.”</p><p>Shuri’s eyes flew open wide, and T’Challa raised an eyebrow.</p><p>“Returning six stones, getting more particles, bringing Nat back here—it added up.”</p><p>“He’s a lousy subject to study, though,” Natasha said. “Any changes would likely be erased by the serum action. And he’s extra tough. Though he might not experience effects, who knows whether a normal person would? What sorts of things are you looking for?”</p><p>“I cannot say that I have a concrete hypothesis. The hazards of space travel we are aware of relate to prolonged weightlessness and exposure to radiation, neither of which apply here. I would first examine the nervous system, but really I would be seeking the needle in a pile of hay.”</p><p>Steve was thoughtful. “Maybe if I did a test run and got scanned right before and after. Even if the effects were blunted by the serum, I’m not alien—you should be able to detect a change before it returned to status quo,” he suggested.</p><p>Natasha looked alarmed. “I don’t think you should be a test pilot for this. There’s no reason to push the implementation, no looming disaster to avert. Let someone else try it.”</p><p>“But I’m less at risk than pretty much anybody.”</p><p>“I don’t care,” Nat insisted. “Physiologically, that may be true. But we should be absolutely certain the new system works perfectly. A user has to be able to get back to this present consistently and accurately before I want you anywhere near it.”</p><p>“Don’t worry, I will not ask either of you to be actual test subjects when we reach that point,” Shuri assured her. “Our agreement is that you provide expertise, not engage in anything with the least danger. You have both done your part in that department. There are plenty of healthy, strong Wakandans who would be eager for the adventure and willing to brave any hazard.”</p><p>“It would still be appropriate for Steve to have a comprehensive scan, yes?” T’Challa asked Shuri. “He will be living here for some time, so a baseline could be useful were he to undergo any sort of health crisis, Bast forbid.”</p><p>“He doesn’t get sick, any more than you do,” Natasha pointed out.</p><p>“Accidents can unfortunately befall anyone,” T’Challa said somberly.</p><p>“Dr. M’Gaji mentioned she wanted a special scan to compare with Bucky and normal people,” Steve said. “To study the serum-enhanced repair mechanisms as ideas for new therapies. She just returned from doing some consulting in Botswana, though, so we haven’t made the appointment yet.”</p><p>“Perhaps the delay could be serendipitous,” T’Challa said with a quick look at Shuri. Natasha noticed the glance and also that Okoye didn’t seem to know about whatever secret the siblings shared. Nat wondered what was going on, but knew better than to ask.</p><p>“I will confer with the doctor and we will set up a time some afternoon. We would not wish to interfere with your morning Wakandan lessons,” Shuri said to Steve. “You are doing so well.”</p><p>“Not Fridays—that is our gym day,” T’Challa noted, and then laughed shortly. “Perhaps we should call it our mentoring day, in honor of the new program.”</p><p>“Come on, it’s nothing like that,” Steve demurred. “We’re just hanging out and getting some exercise.”</p><p>“An ex-Avenger meets regularly with an ‘activatable’ advisor for training. That sounds like what Capt. Wilson is advocating. Though we cannot tell anyone about it,” T’Challa insisted with a smile.</p><p>“Next time there is a sparring match I want to be included,” Shuri said eagerly. “Desta told me about the last one, and I wish to learn from ‘Kathryn’ as well.”</p><p>“Speaking of things we learn at the gym, is everyone up to speed on Steve’s weird encounter with the owner?” Natasha asked. The others nodded.</p><p>“The concept of one timeline bleeding into another is fascinating,” Shuri said. “An assistant is now researching esoteric literature on the topic. From a scientific viewpoint, the field is too new to have any precedent to discover.”</p><p>“Is there a possible use, or is this of academic interest only?” asked Okoye.</p><p>“Any type of synchronous communication across timelines is exciting,” said Shuri. “If this account can be trusted, it raises the possibility of interdimensional transmission. We could communicate with those who have traveled backward or forward from our own time, or exchange messages with people living in the past or future without having to physically go there.”</p><p>Natasha crossed her arms and leaned back in her cushiony chair. “You know, this somehow reminds me of the Captain Marvel pager. Bruce never figured out how it worked. It was very simple, only sending out a distress signal, so he thought its mode of transmission couldn’t support anything complex. It worked across vast tracts of space, so possibly transdimensional somehow.”</p><p>“I would dearly love to get hold of that piece of technology,” Shuri said with relish.</p><p>“Could transmitting information have the capacity to split a timeline off, just as a time traveler can by changing something significant?” Steve asked.</p><p>“That is unknown. It might have to be tested via experiment,” Shuri said.</p><p>“But is it ethical to do something that might result in such a split and affect a new future?” T’Challa mused. “In any event, how could a recipient in another time be recruited for the experiment? How could they ever believe what appears to be happening?”</p><p>Steve thought of an answer, and he blurted it out without reflection. “We do know of at least one person in the past who is aware of time travel.”</p><p>“H. G. Wells?” Nat asked with a smirk.</p><p>“No. Someone living in a previously split timeline, who might be willing to help.”</p><p>Natasha saw Steve’s serious expression and realized who he meant.</p><p>“Oh no you don’t,” she said fiercely. “You’re not going to get yourself inserted into Peggy’s dreams or something.” Natasha turned to Shuri. “How would that work, anyway? Communicating via the subconscious seems . . . inexact, to say the least.”</p><p>She shrugged. “There must be some discoverable, describable system, but neither our science nor that of other cultures understands it. We would have to proceed in the dark, as it were, at least at first.”</p><p>“Seers and shamans may not be able to describe the underlying mechanisms with equations, but they have techniques that work,” T’Challa said. “I myself have spoken with our father after his death, which surely is some sort of interdimensional communication. I am convinced that was real and not a delusion.”</p><p>Shuri’s face tensed as she thought rapidly, putting together various elements in her mind. “You were able to do so under the influence of the Heart-Shaped Herb. Perhaps our work to synthesize its constituents has greater implications than conferring physical enhancements. It facilitates communication across time, space, and possibly dimensions.”</p><p>“We already have told Mr. Pinkerton that Mr. Holden is testing a formulation of the synthetic herb,” T’Challa said with a faint smile. “Perhaps we should turn this lie into a truth.”</p><p>“Now don’t <i>you</i> start,” Natasha said firmly. “He’s had enough unknown life-altering chemicals pumped into him. He doesn’t need any more.”</p><p>“She is right,” said Shuri. “Fortunately or not, Steve is a poor candidate for such testing because of his previous enhancements. So are you, my brother, as you have already ingested the herb. When the time comes, we must seek someone who is both courageous enough to accept the risk and trustworthy enough to properly use any enhancements conferred.”</p><p>Without thinking, all the Wakandans looked at Natasha.</p><p>This time it was Steve who jumped in, shielding her against the prospect of becoming a lab rat. “No dice. You promised to keep her safe,” he said with a flash of his old authority.</p><p>T’Challa held up a hand in supplication. “Please do not worry. We will not ask Ms. Sheen to participate in such a trial. Will we, Sister?”</p><p>Shuri had gone wide-eyed again. “No, surely not. It is just that she is so perfect a candidate that we could not help but reflexively think of it.”</p><p>Okoye shook her head. “We have perhaps thought too much this evening, after an excellent and stimulating dinner. A refreshing palm wine cocktail should take care of that tendency nicely.”</p><p>Everyone chuckled and relaxed a bit, and T’Challa pressed a button to signal for a waiter to take drink and dessert requests. “Our general is correct. Shall we lighten the subject matter and merely enjoy one another’s company?”</p><p>About an hour later, after drinks had been consumed, the conversation wound down, and farewells said, Natasha and Steve strolled across the atrium toward the elevator. At this time, the area was largely deserted, and through the massive windows stars could be seen twinkling in the sky.</p><p>“Do you want to sleep over tonight?” Natasha asked, sliding an arm around Steve’s waist.</p><p>“Of course. Unless you want to stay at my place instead,” he offered, putting his arm around her shoulders.</p><p>“Whichever. Doesn’t matter to me as long as we’re together.”</p><p>As they continued down the hall, Steve remarked, “You were very protective of me this evening.”</p><p>“Absolutely. I don’t want to lose you.”</p><p>“I don’t want to lose me either. Just when things are getting good.”</p><p>Natasha stopped, and swung around to embrace him fully. “They are good, aren’t they?” she said with a wondering smile, looking up into his face.</p><p>“Best days of my life,” he said seriously, caressing her cheek.</p><p>Now that they had grown even closer, occasionally his guilt at keeping something from her almost led him to come clean. But at times like this he understood that he could never let her know. He would bear his secret all their lives—or at least all of hers.</p><p>They kissed, sweetly yet thoroughly, oblivious to their surroundings. When they stopped a couple of minutes later, Steve still held her tightly, loath to let her, and the moment, go.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0048"><h2>48. Who Is That?</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Steve confides in Natasha the content of a recurring nightmare that reveals the trauma of his transformation and his struggle with how others see him.</p>
<p>Rating: Mature<br/>Content notes: one F bomb, sexual situations, narration of nightmare, brief description of gory violence</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>After their dinner with Okoye and the royals, Steve and Natasha decided to stay at her place for the night. In the week since they’d started sleeping together, each had begun to colonize the other’s apartment, installing caches of duplicate personal items and a few clothes. They hadn’t talked yet about moving in together; easy enough to walk the twenty meters between their suites and keep two kitchens and bathrooms.</p>
<p>Nat was tired after a busy day, the long meeting, a big meal, and the strong cocktail afterward. The couple bedded down for sleep without any preliminaries. They’d adjusted their sex life for the past few days so her soreness could improve. Though they missed more exuberant physical adventures, their massages and other hands-and-mouths activities had brought abundant pleasure.</p>
<p>After they settled in, Natasha yawned and asked, “What did you think of how Bucky handled the meeting? You hardly mentioned him in the discussion after.”</p>
<p>It took several seconds for Steve to reply. “He did a great job backing up Sam. It was clever how he slipped key info into the discussion.”</p>
<p>“He sounded clear and strong.”</p>
<p>“Still not as articulate or enthusiastic as his old self. Maybe he’ll never get that back. But he seemed . . . better.”</p>
<p>“Do you think the position is good for him?”</p>
<p>“I do. And Sam is too.”</p>
<p>“I suspect he secretly likes the ‘Guardian’ thing,” Natasha remarked. She waited, but Steve didn’t reply.</p>
<p>“Do you not want to talk about Bucky?” she asked delicately.</p>
<p>He gave a deep sigh. “Not right now. It’s kind of painful. I miss him a lot, like you do Clint.”</p>
<p>“Probably worse for you. I don’t need to worry about Clint.”</p>
<p>“I try not to, because I think he’s going to be fine, I really do.” There was another pause. “It’s not that I’m lonely. I have good friends here, I’m making new ones, and of course I have you. But no one can take Bucky’s place. There was a lack, a hole in my life, when he was lost. Then we managed to get him back. Now I’ve walked away from him, and I feel the loss again.” Steve sounded more defeated than upset, and his air of sadness had returned.</p>
<p>Natasha snuggled closer. Without their talking about it, he turned on his side and she spooned in behind, an arm tucked over him.</p>
<p>About three in the morning, Nat awoke to find that Steve wasn’t in bed. Sitting up, she scanned the room, faintly illuminated by a night light. She spotted his motionless silhouette against the exterior window. He’d lowered the top of the blinds a few inches so he could look out at the glittering night city.</p>
<p>“Honey? You OK?” she called softly.</p>
<p>He stared outside a few moments more before coming back to the bed. He wore a bathrobe, though he certainly wouldn’t have been cold; she suspected he felt exposed or vulnerable.</p>
<p>“Sorry,” he said. He sat on what had already become his side of the bed, to her left. “Didn’t mean to disturb you.”</p>
<p>“It’s fine. Upset about Bucky?”</p>
<p>“No.”</p>
<p>“Bad dream?”</p>
<p>“Yeah.”</p>
<p>“You should wake me up when that happens, for a cuddle.”</p>
<p>“Wouldn’t want to bug you.”</p>
<p>“What if I told <i>you</i> that after I had a nightmare?”</p>
<p>He smiled a little. “I’d say, please bug me, I really want to comfort you.”</p>
<p>“Well then?”</p>
<p>Steve slipped out of the bathrobe, tossed it aside, and slid under the sheet. Natasha rested her arm across his chest and tucked her head next to his as he lay on his back. “You want to talk about it?”</p>
<p>“I probably should. But it’s been a long time since I told anyone a dream.”</p>
<p>“Was this a flashback, or weird twisted stuff?”</p>
<p>“Both. That’s usual for me. Starts off as a bad memory and gets worse.”</p>
<p>“Have you had this one before?”</p>
<p>“Yes. Not for awhile though.”</p>
<p>“What happens?”</p>
<p>“I’m about to go through the ‘rebirth’ procedure. It’s like an operating theater, plus extra machines and gadgets. I’m lying in the open chamber, no shirt on, a few dozen people gawking at me. The sets of needles close down onto me and inject the serum. Which hurts. The chamber elevates and shuts tight, and they turn on the radiation.”</p>
<p>Nat felt him tense, and he didn’t speak for several breaths. She stroked his chest to calm him.</p>
<p>“Then the blinding pain. Burning and tearing, from the inside out, through my whole body. After I screamed and Peggy ordered them to stop, I insisted they keep on. If I was going to fail everybody, I’d rather die trying. By the end, I really thought I wasn’t going to make it.”</p>
<p>Steve had never recounted the experience in her presence. It seemed obvious that it would have been traumatic, but she’d never seen or heard the ordeal described that way, least of all by him.</p>
<p>“Then the circuits blew, the pain decreased, and the chamber opened. In the dream version, when I get out, no one helps me, it’s totally silent, and I’m naked. Everybody stares at me again, but their eyes are glowing red. Their faces are intense and crazy. They come slowly closer. Watching zombie movies is tough because they remind me of this nightmare.”</p>
<p>His reticence overcome, Steve’s story tumbled out faster. “They want something but I can’t understand what and it scares the hell out of me. I look around for Peggy but I can’t find her. I see Dr. Erskine but he’s across the room. He’s not freakish like the rest but he stares at me with no expression. Then there’s a gunshot and he slams up against the wall because he’s been hit. His forehead splits open, which isn’t how it happened. Half the crazed people go after him, and half come after me. Before they get to me a bomb explodes underneath a machine. It’s deafening, I’m knocked off my feet, there’s shrapnel flying, and screaming. People are blown to pieces and blood and flesh spatters all over—”</p>
<p>“Steve, slow down, take a deep breath. It’s OK. You’re here with me, you’re safe.” Natasha remembered when years before he’d helped her out of a nightmare, and how important it had felt to know she was protected.</p>
<p>He shut his eyes and continued, carefully, deliberately. “That last part seems to be grafted on from something that happened in France later. Anyhow. I get up and try to run but the staring people are still after me. They catch an arm, a leg, and drag me down. I can’t shake them. Suddenly I’m under a pile of bodies, it’s dark and I can’t breathe. And that’s when I wake up.” He exhaled and shuddered.</p>
<p>“Darling, I’m so sorry. That is one fucked-up dream,” Nat told him.</p>
<p>“Yeah. How it actually happened was strange enough. Especially the way the spectators looked at me when I came out of the chamber. My subconscious pushes it way off the rails at that point.”</p>
<p>“What was it like in reality?”</p>
<p>“I was lightheaded from the excruciating pain that had just quit, and I still ached all over. I was seeing the world from a higher vantage point, everything in sharp focus, and sounds were way louder. The way my body felt and worked had profoundly changed. But the most surreal thing was how everyone looked at me so differently from only a few minutes before.”</p>
<p>Steve turned on his side toward her. “All my life, I’d seen the same reactions, again and again, in the faces of strangers. Starting when I was a sickly little kid, through to when I was a short, scrawny adult. I saw disdain. Distaste. Pity. In the eyes of the bullies and the mean girls, delight that they’d found a new victim. If I was lucky, there’d be apathy—I’d just be invisible. Only if I was very fortunate would I find kindness or warmth.”</p>
<p>He sighed. “After I emerged that day, I saw new things in their eyes. Excitement. Wonder. Admiration. Envy. Fear. Desire. Fundamentally I was the same person but they were seeing someone else. They still do.”</p>
<p>“I see you.”</p>
<p>“Do you?” He stroked her hair. “How can you? You didn’t know me before. But that’s a good thing.”</p>
<p>“Why a good thing?”</p>
<p>“I’ve accepted that if I didn’t look like this, couldn’t do the things I can do, you wouldn’t have fallen in love with me.”</p>
<p>Natasha was stung. Did he really think she was shallow, that she put so much stock in his appearance and abilities? But as she thought about it, she understood how he got the impression. Since his return from the past, she’d gushed about his face and physique, which she’d assumed he’d like to hear, and revealed how hot she’d thought he was when they’d met long ago.</p>
<p>“And that’s OK. I’m at peace with it,” Steve told her.</p>
<p>She kept quiet about her reaction because she wanted him to dig deeper. “Are you sure?”</p>
<p>“It’s just statistics. Nothing negative about you. You’ve always been gorgeous and you get tons of male attention, probably more than you want. Among all those men, there’d be no reason to take me seriously as a potential date, the way I was back then. Or even notice me at all. You can have your pick of strong, healthy, graceful, handsome, whatever attributes you want.”</p>
<p>He turned his head to gaze up at the bamboo ceiling. “Doesn’t matter anyway because you never saw me in the old days. I have to say, something I appreciate about Peggy is that she was attracted to me before I went through the process. No one else ever had been that I knew of. For a long time I wasn’t sure about it, but then I saw my boot camp photo on her desk in 1970. She could have chosen one of the many that were taken after. We talked it over when I went back to 1949. She was intrigued from the first. Thought I was cute.”</p>
<p>“You were adorable, from the photos I saw in your file,” Natasha said. “Those eyes, those lips, that smile.”</p>
<p>“These cheekbones always made me look gaunt.”</p>
<p>“Mostly you needed to fill out. You had the same voice, the same dexterity, the same presence. I’ve read Peggy’s reports from back then. Between the lines of the bureaucratic language, it’s clear she found you fascinating, and someone to look up to. Morally if not literally.”</p>
<p>“She enjoyed how I looked afterward too,” Steve said. “You liked what you saw when we met, and you had no opportunity to know anything else. Anyway, in my old body it would’ve been impossible for me to ever meet you. I had to undergo Project Rebirth to be able to make it to the twenty-first century. Otherwise I would have stayed in my time and lived a normal lifespan, or shorter. Maybe died before you were born. So my being like this is a package—I had to transform, to be able to get to you. In more ways than one.”</p>
<p>Nat suspected something was still bothering him. “Do you feel you’ve completely accepted how you are?”</p>
<p>He raised a hand high and contemplated his arm, turning it this way and that as shadows played over the curves of his muscles. “I’ve inhabited this body about sixteen years, and pushed it hard. I’m used to it and how it functions, so I don’t recognize the shift most of the time. But occasionally in the middle of the night, or a random quiet moment during the day, I feel strange. Like I’m wearing a costume. Confused by the huge change from how I lived my first twenty-five years. I might see my reflection in a window, and I wonder, Whose broad shoulders and straight back are those? Where did this body come from? Who <i>is</i> that?</p>
<p>“To this day, I find it weird how people respond to me compared to before. Now that I have this.” His hand swept down over his torso as though to present himself for display. “Sometimes I feel like saying, ‘You don’t really know me, but . . .”</p>
<p>Steve’s composure crumbled, and his face twisted in anguish.</p>
<p>“I’m still in here,” he whispered.</p>
<p>Natasha, stunned into silence, suddenly grasped how overwhelming the metamorphosis had been for him. His body had been forcibly enlarged within a few painful minutes. Displayed to an audience, bombarded by his heightened senses and perceptions, thrown into the mayhem that followed. Then measured, sampled, experimented upon like a lab animal. In hindsight, it was fortunate he’d spent months in marketing and propaganda. He’d been allowed no downtime but at least he’d become accustomed to his new form before he charged into combat operations. No one had recognized the trauma, because the result was positive. Wasn’t Rogers bigger, stronger, faster, healthier, better in every way than his previous puny self? He seemed to be handling it fine. Why would a perfect soldier need to be treated like a disturbed patient?</p>
<p>The way people responded to him troubled him even now. She could feel Steve struggling not to break down. Reaching out, she caressed his face. He turned toward her again, his eyes seeking solace in hers. With his hyper-acute vision, he could see her better in the low light than she could see him. Massaging his tense shoulder, she was unsure what to tell him.</p>
<p>“I love you,” Natasha said simply. “Whoever or however you are.”</p>
<p>He smiled faintly, began to breathe more deeply, and relaxed under her comforting touch. She had a small revelation.</p>
<p>“I can see why you miss Bucky so much,” she said. “He’s the only one left who knew you in the old days.”</p>
<p>“Yeah. There were a lot of reasons I searched for him, but that was a selfish one. Because I was born so long ago, I’ve lost everyone who knew where I came from. Everyone who really gets me.”</p>
<p>Natasha desperately wanted him to understand: she loved his heart and soul, apart from the beauty and strength of his outer package. Apart from what he thought of as Cap, not Steve. Fortunately, she could assure him of it. Even she was surprised at how little doubt she felt about the answer.</p>
<p>“I get you too, Steve,” Nat insisted. “If there’d been any way we could have met, I would’ve fallen for you when you had your old body.”</p>
<p>He patted her hip, somewhat patronizingly. “I know you want to make me feel good about it, but you don’t have to. We have what we have, now. It’s fine.”</p>
<p>“There’s no way I can prove it to you, but please believe me. I’m not making it up so I feel noble and you feel more loved.”</p>
<p>She propped up on one elbow. “When we first met, I certainly did appreciate your . . . form. But I was also attracted by your presence, your kindness, the respect you gave me, your courtesy to all regardless of rank.”</p>
<p>“I’m not always polite.”</p>
<p>“Well, when you’re not, it’s because someone earned it. As I got to know you, I was impressed by your abilities, and not only what had been enhanced. The serum didn’t give you your leadership, or judgment, self-possession, resilience, integrity. Or guts. It took a tough guy to even say yes to the project.”</p>
<p>“To be honest, that part wasn’t too hard,” Steve said. “In my life, I’d had to overcome a lot of fear to keep going. I was close to death maybe a dozen times before I was twenty, and I ended up with a slew of chronic conditions. Like asthma, which was tougher to manage back then. I lived with the fact that venturing out on a cold day could provoke a fatal attack. I wasn’t reckless, but to have a normal life I had to stop worrying about dying, and learn how to push through pain. The first time I encountered the enemy in wartime was when I parachuted out of Howard’s plane, into anti-aircraft fire. I was asked later how I faced danger so ‘bravely.’ I was used to it. Just something else trying to kill me. That time it was Germans instead of germs.”</p>
<p>“I saw the list of your old ailments—it hurt just to look at,” she said with a wince. “When we started working together a lot after New York, I studied SHIELD’s files on you. Including the statement you wrote before the procedure, and the debriefing after. If I didn’t know you, reading those would make me want to meet you. Intelligent, perceptive, courageous, with a sense of humor.”</p>
<p>Natasha leaned in and kissed him gently on the lips. “I’m thankful for Dr. Erskine. Because he created the keys that, in the end, extended your life to today. And because he selected you and went to bat for you.”</p>
<p>Steve smiled, white teeth flashing in the dark. “Resulting in me in your bed.”</p>
<p>“And resulting in your saving my life on multiple occasions, once to an extreme degree. I thank the good doctor for more than selfish reasons, though. I’m grateful because of everything you’ve done since that day. So many awful things would have happened if you hadn’t been available, and able, and willing, to help stop them.”</p>
<p>Steve was uncomfortable when praised by someone he respected. It was difficult to “aw-shucks” when lying naked in bed, though he managed. “I just tried to do my part, no matter what situation I was in. Regarding Dr. Erskine—he was determined to use an undersized man for the experiment. A little guy. He said the weak know the value of strength and have compassion. He would’ve found someone like me if it weren’t me.”</p>
<p>“Oh, Steve. I don’t think there’s anyone else like you.” Natasha sat all the way up in bed, as though it would persuade him she was sincere.</p>
<p>“A person can know what it’s like to need help, or what it’s like to be mistreated, but it’s not enough. Plenty of weak people, given the enhancements you got, would take revenge on the strong, lord it over the unfortunate, become bullies themselves. Life experience can increase empathy, sure. You have to have the capacity in the first place. He saw that in you, and it’s super important.”</p>
<p>“All right, all right,” Steve said. He reached out for her and gently urged her down into an embrace. “I believe you. You would have fallen madly in love had you known me before. Eventually.”</p>
<p>Natasha relaxed against his broad chest. “Yeah, might’ve taken longer. Without the immediate lust to spark my interest.”</p>
<p>“And you might have found our sex life less inspiring.”</p>
<p>“Your body is beautiful and your strength and stamina are mighty convenient. But there are other things that truly set you apart as a lover. Finesse, imagination, unselfishness, attentiveness. Plus something I don’t have a name for—joyful enthusiasm and loving kindness, maybe? I don’t think any of that came out of a bottle.”</p>
<p>As they lay quietly, breathing together, a related thought came to Steve. He would have bet money it was on her mind too.</p>
<p>“Just for the record: if you were ordinary looking, you would have stolen my heart anyway. As long as I had a chance to get to know you.”</p>
<p>She held her head up to look him in the eye. “Really?”</p>
<p>“Absolutely. As you can tell, I enjoy your lovely face, glorious hair, and amazing body,” he said, running his hands down her back and cupping her bottom. “But I’m in love with you, not that.”</p>
<p>“Good to know. Because I’m going to get old, and wrinkly, and weaker, and maybe even fat. At my age, I’m starting to worry about it.”</p>
<p>“Please don’t on my account. Bring it on. Physical beauty is fleeting. You are forever.”</p>
<p>Her heart felt as though it had expanded inside her chest, and tears sprang to her eyes. His words touched her deeply, healed something she hadn’t realized needed healing.</p>
<p>Natasha raised herself up and stroked his forehead. Steve could see how moved she was, even in the dimness.</p>
<p>“I always wanted to hear you say that, but didn’t know it,” she murmured.</p>
<p>She kissed him, and a tear fell onto his cheek. Then she whispered against his lips, “Make love with me. All the way.”</p>
<p>His arms tightened around her and he asked, “Are you sure? We wouldn’t want to—”</p>
<p>“I’m sure,” she replied. “It’ll be all right. I don’t want to wait any more. For my Steve.”</p>
<p>He studied her face, looking into her eyes, and believed beyond a doubt that she saw him—his real self. A few tears of his own soon mingled with hers as they began to pursue with their bodies the intimacy of their hearts.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0049"><h2>49. Eulogy = Speaking Well</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Okoye, Wanda, and Bucky give the eulogies at the Avengers memorial service for Natasha, Vision, and Steve. Peter Parker and a host of the usual suspects are on hand to pay their respects, even though none of the honorees are technically dead.</p>
<p>Rating: Teen and Up<br/>Content note: general discussions of death</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Gen. Okoye, Leader Tumeli, and Deputy Director Mutombo stood together by the window in the conference room of temporary Avengers headquarters. They’d arrived twenty minutes early for the memorial service, but there were already a couple dozen people on hand. The three wore Italian heels with black dresses of different styles, topped with colorful silk shawls for formality and warmth—it was December and they were far from their tropical home. Bucky Barnes, in a tailored navy business suit with a patterned tie the same red as his Guardian uniform, had greeted them when they’d arrived. As yet they’d encountered no one else they knew well, but found the downtime convenient. Desta and Tumeli were Okoye’s pilots for the in-and-out trip and served as entourage, but they were also taking the opportunity to observe and meet Avengers and TAO staff.</p>
<p>Sam was there but was occupied with Peter Parker. Wilson’s deep blue suit was as new as Bucky’s—he’d insisted they both invest in a quality wardrobe for official occasions where uniforms weren’t appropriate. Peter was in the same suit he’d worn to Tony’s funeral. The young man had gotten over his disappointment at being told he’d have to wait for activation as an Avenger. He was now geeking out at the prospect of Hank Pym as a mentor.</p>
<p>“I mean, I asked Mr. Stark about Dr. Pym once and he told me Dr. Pym was a genius but hard to work with and I almost said ‘Like you?’ but I didn’t, which was probably good,” Peter said.</p>
<p>“That was definitely the right call,” Sam responded, deadpan. “I understand there was bad blood between Howard Stark and Dr. Pym. Hank ended up quitting SHIELD and holding a grudge. But there’s been a lot of water under the bridge since then, and now he’s very on board with his role as a TAO advisor.”</p>
<p>“You said the idea for Dr. Pym to mentor me came from the Wint—uh, Mr. Barnes? That was sure nice of him, I’ll have to thank him. I’m excited to meet Dr. Pym, do you think he’s coming today?”</p>
<p>“He said he’s planning to show. When you talk to him, ask after his wife, Janet Van Dyne. Ms. Van Dyne is at home with a cold.”</p>
<p>“OK, I’ll do that, thanks Capt. Wilson.” He got out his phone and thumbed in a note.</p>
<p>“If Hank doesn’t show up early, you can buttonhole him afterward at the potluck. But you’ll have to sit through the memorial service.”</p>
<p>Peter looked up from his device and his brow furrowed in confusion. “I want to be here for the service, that’s why I came.”</p>
<p>“Ah. Not just networking.”</p>
<p>“Oh no sir. I wanted to pay my respects. I’m sorry I didn’t get to spend more time with these guys, uh, and lady. They were amazing historic people and I am so honored I even got to meet them at all, even though I, you know, ended up fighting with you and Mr. Barnes and Capt. Rogers at first.”</p>
<p>“It was certainly an interesting introduction. Given everything that’s happened since then, I can safely say we’re all good now. I’m glad you came. We’ll talk later about future training you’d be welcome to join, if you have time.”</p>
<p>“That’d be awesome! I know you want me to concentrate on my grades and stuff, but I want to be ready if I can help in any way. Meantime I’ve got some ideas about data me and Ned could crunch about repeated crime locations to patrol if we could figure out a way to get the police to—Oh hey, there’s Happy and Ms. Potts,” Peter said, head swiveling toward the door like a dog that saw a squirrel.</p>
<p>Sam looked in the same direction. “I figured Happy would’ve sent a limo for you to come with them.”</p>
<p>“I borrowed Aunt May’s car and drove up on my own. I got my license finally.”</p>
<p>“I see. Well, go say hello. After that I suggest you greet the Wakandan contingent. They know who you are, and you’ll want to be on good terms with them.”</p>
<p>Peter looked over at the three stern women and his eyes grew big. “I don’t know, Captain. They kind of scare me.”</p>
<p>“It’s true that all three could filet you like a fish, but it’s an opportune time. At the moment they’re unarmed. Or at least only lightly.”</p>
<p>“Um, OK Captain. I promise I’ll introduce myself before they leave today.” He shook Sam’s hand and hustled off toward Happy and Pepper.</p>
<p>Bucky sidled up, startling Sam.</p>
<p>“Damn, son, were you lurking over my shoulder?”</p>
<p>“Nah, just timed it so you could talk to the boy alone.”</p>
<p>Sam nodded toward Peter. “You know what? He’s wearing his spider suit underneath that. He said he wants to be prepared in case something happens. Half the time I talk with him, he’s a goofy kid. A bouncing ball of enthusiasm and hope and looking at girls and worrying about getting into the right university. Then he shows what’s underneath, what drives him.”</p>
<p>“Which is?”</p>
<p>“A sense of responsibility for the world. A need to do everything he’s able, no matter the danger to himself, to protect people. He understands he’s been given great powers and feels compelled to do the right thing with ‘em. Feels guilty if he doesn’t do enough—what <i>he</i> thinks is enough.”</p>
<p>“Remind you of anybody?” Bucky asked, though he knew the answer.</p>
<p>“Yeah.”</p>
<p>“You stand by not wanting to bring him on as soon as he’s eighteen?”</p>
<p>“Absolutely. You’re right that he should concentrate on brains, not brawn. He can keep his hand in by tracking down criminals in Boston or Pasadena or wherever he ends up going to school. He can train with us if he wants to on breaks.”</p>
<p>“Are training exercises and busting thugs gonna be enough for him? He’s visited another planet and helped fight the biggest villain in the galaxy, twice.”</p>
<p>“I think when he goes off to college he’ll have new friends and a busy, interesting life. I sure hope he won’t be yearning for the fun and games of saving the world.”</p>
<p>“Speaking of new friends, check it out,” Bucky said, canting his head toward the door. Peter was talking animatedly with Hank, who’d just arrived and hadn’t made it all the way into the room yet. Dr. Pym looked bemused as he kept trying to get a word in edgewise.</p>
<p>Sam chuckled but before he could make a remark, Wanda strolled up. “Well well, the Captain and the Guardian are looking spiffy,” she said, grinning. “Good hair, Barnes.”</p>
<p>“Thanks,” Bucky said shyly, running his hand over his short—but not military—new haircut. “Nice outfit.” She wore a flowing dress with a dark blue-on-blue floral pattern and her hair in an updo.</p>
<p>“Where’d you get that sweet blue tie?” she asked Sam, peering closely at it. “Oh, the little figures in the jacquard are Captain America shields!” she exclaimed.</p>
<p>“Bucky spotted it when he was shopping so he got it for me,” Sam said. “Probably violates some merchandising agreement, but it’s cool.” He noticed that Wanda’s smile was bright but brittle. “How you feeling?” he asked.</p>
<p>“I’m doing OK. Nervous, but everyone has been super supportive. I talked to Okoye and met her wingladies. Very impressive. Have you seen Dr. Strange?”</p>
<p>“He texted this morning. He can’t make it, but said he’ll be here in spirit.”</p>
<p>“Oh,” Wanda said, disappointed. “I was hoping to talk to him about the mentorship thing.”</p>
<p>“With that guy, who knows what ‘be there in spirit’ means?” Bucky observed. “He might be floating invisibly in a corner right now.”</p>
<p>Wanda raised her eyebrows and surveyed the room above the heads of the crowd. “You may be right,” she said seriously. “I’ll keep an eye out for anomalies.”</p>
<p>“Strange was cagey about why he wasn’t showing up, didn’t seem to have a solid reason. Maybe he’ll be more forthcoming when you talk to him,” said Sam.</p>
<p>The three looked toward the memorial displays. A draped table had been set up for each of the three honorees. The tables held a card with the person’s name in elegant calligraphy, a simple white candle, an electronic photo collage, and personal mementos. People could leave a message about the honoree for posterity in a small hardcover book. On Vision’s table was a vase of wildflowers, which Wanda had told Sam he’d always found delightful. Natasha’s vase held roses the same color as her hair. Steve’s contained white calla lilies, at Bucky’s suggestion. They were traditional in wedding bouquets and at funerals.</p>
<p>Some attendees avoided the evocative displays, while others crowded around, examining the mementos and writing comments. One technician finished a holographic recording of the tables while another set up a videocamera to capture the ceremony—for absent invitees and the TAO archive.</p>
<p>Desta and Tumeli perused the tables while Okoye spoke with Clint. He’d approached her with trepidation; she was one of the few who knew what he’d done as Ronin, and she had a formidable reputation as a straight arrow. Okoye found it surreal to talk to someone with whom she shared hidden knowledge but didn’t realize it. Outwardly, she was appropriately somber for her role in the event; internally she was amused. Barton was clearly hyperfocused on her words and demeanor, trying to determine whether she knew the same secret he did.</p>
<p>The current Avengers were on hand, along with virtually all the staff except a skeleton crew downstairs. People began to choose seats in the rows of chairs, with more standing at the sides and back. At five minutes past the hour, Bruce and Clint moved to the front of the room. As the available original Avengers, they would preside.</p>
<p>Bruce cleared his throat loudly; he couldn’t do it any other way. “Thank you for coming to the 2023 Avengers memorial service. We especially welcome those of you who traveled to be here. We honor our friends and colleagues Natasha Romanov, Vision, and Steve Rogers. We also acknowledge Tony Stark, for whom there was a well-attended service in October, and all of those who perished in the war against Thanos. Although the Battle of Wakanda took place more than five years ago, those who’ve Returned remember it as immediately before the Battle of Earth. In the future we’ll sponsor more commemorations and monuments for Avengers and allies killed in the line of duty. Including those in SHIELD and successor organizations who fell previous to recent events, such as Pietro Maximoff.” He gestured to the tables behind him. “If you haven’t visited these memorial collections yet, I encourage you to do so after the service. They’re really worthwhile.”</p>
<p>Bruce looked at Clint, who took over. “We owe Capt. Wilson thanks for arranging this private event for the benefit of all of us who called these extraordinary people our friends. It’s also for those who never got a chance to know them well but should understand how important they were. Not only to history, but to our team. There’s something these honorees have in common: because of their personal circumstances, we were not just their colleagues but their family. We appreciate the family members giving the eulogies today. Not an easy thing to do.” He looked down, feeling a twinge of guilt for sticking someone else with speaking for Nat.</p>
<p>“Wanda Maximoff will talk about Vision, Gen. Okoye about Natasha, and James Barnes about Steve. They’ve been asked to be informal and speak from the heart. Each segment will start with another friend lighting a memorial candle.”</p>
<p>Clint took a long fireplace match from the inner pocket of his blazer and struck it on the tablecloth. He handed it to Bruce and sat down in the front row. With remarkable dexterity, Bruce lit Vision’s candle and remained by the table as Wanda joined him. She was pale but composed.</p>
<p>“I’d like to thank those who’ve already written in Vision’s book,” she began. “The messages touch my heart. They reassure me that you understand. There are people out there who’d say that Vision shouldn’t be included in this service, because he wasn’t a human being or a ‘natural creature.’ Some say he didn’t die because he was never truly alive, that he was a construct, a very fancy robot. I hope everyone here knows he was more than that. I’m privileged to say I knew him best, better even than those who created him.” Wanda glanced at Bruce, who smiled sadly.</p>
<p>“I won’t get analytical or philosophical about what or who Vision was. He and I were both closely associated with the Mind Stone, but my bond with him goes far beyond what we shared in that way. He was the sweetest, kindest, most thoughtful person I’ve ever known, and I tell you beyond a shadow of a doubt that he knew how to love.</p>
<p>“Everyone here knows what happened. He was murdered during the Battle of Wakanda. But before time was manipulated to reverse it, something else occurred that I want to address. To keep the Mind Stone from Thanos, I destroyed it, and that killed him first. It was the hardest thing I ever had to do, and I’m sure nothing will ever be worse. The only way I was able to do it was because Vision asked me to. He sacrificed himself in an attempt to save half the life in the universe. Remember that, as an artificially created being, he very likely wouldn’t have been at risk in the Snap. He surrendered his consciousness, his life, for the rest of us, and we honor that act today. ‘Greater love has no man than this, that he lay down his life for his friends.’”</p>
<p>She was weeping, but her voice remained strong in the silent room. “Vision was unique. He was not human, but he was worthy. And I loved him. We were fortunate to have him among us, even though it was only for a few years. But he will live on in the memories of those blessed to know him. In my heart, he will live forever.”</p>
<p>Bruce patted her gently on the back with a massive hand. She moved to her seat and accepted a tissue from Clint. Banner retired to the side of the room, several people shifting to accommodate his bulk.</p>
<p>Sam approached, lit Steve’s candle, and stood by as Bucky came up to speak. They looked dashing together, standing almost at attention in their fashionable suits. Barnes rested his left hand on the table for psychological support, the vibranium giving off its peculiar glint.</p>
<p>“Cap is not likely to ever be forgotten. Not by millions, even billions, around the world, much less by the people in this building. Me, though—it’s Steve I’ll always remember. My best friend from childhood.” He smiled nostalgically. “I used to rescue him from the bullies in our neighborhood, nearly a century ago. Later, he rescued me from much scarier bullies. Science made him bigger and stronger, but I’m here to tell you that Steve Rogers was a better person when he went into that machine than pretty much anybody I’ve met. He stayed that way when he came out.</p>
<p>“When we were young, World War II upended everyone’s lives. Like a lot of other men our age, we joined the Army. I volunteered because it was the thing to do, and I wanted to fight for my country. Steve signed up because it was the <i>right</i> thing to do. He wanted to serve with our troops and defend people who were being oppressed and persecuted. Took him six tries, but they finally let him in.</p>
<p>“Because of what happened to us during and after the war, we didn’t end up doing the normal things we might have imagined: go back to Brooklyn, find girls to marry, bore our grandkids with war stories, stay friends until we were old men—to the end of the line. Fate had other ideas.</p>
<p>“Some people we lose leave holes in our lives that can’t be filled. That’s true for me about Steve. For some it’s Natasha, or Vision, or Tony, or someone else. Steve is far away now, living in another time and probably not for long. We’ve lost a great leader and we’re on our own. I think of him like a friend who’s died. He’s ‘passed on’ and we won’t see him again.</p>
<p>“I don’t begrudge him that. I knew what he was planning and I kept it to myself like he asked. He’s one of a handful of people who’ve done more for humanity than anyone has a right to expect. And then he took his chance to be happy. Though it hurts that he’s gone, I’m glad for him; he went out like he chose, and had a good long life.” Buck glanced at Okoye and Wanda in the front row, silently acknowledging that long lives were denied to Natasha and Vision.</p>
<p>“As Avengers, I hope Sam and I can live up to his example as the first Captain America. As a human being, I hope I can live up to his example in my friendships. So long, Steve. We miss you.”</p>
<p>Returning to their seats, Sam and Bucky passed Clint and Okoye. Clint lit Natasha’s candle. Okoye gave the Wakandan salute, which he returned. She surveyed the crowd. Though she was eulogizing someone she knew wasn’t dead, standing next to another who also knew Natasha was alive, she didn’t feel as fraudulent as she’d thought. The genuine mourning in the room weighed on her heart and lent her words gravity.</p>
<p>“Today I honor Natasha Romanov, a noble warrior and operative, who has been at various times my comrade in arms, my leader, my student, and my friend. I am a reserved person by upbringing, and because it suits my profession. In many ways, so was she. Few have known her well, even if they believed they did. One might have thought we would clash, but it became rapidly clear after we met that we are kindred spirits.</p>
<p>“The great service she rendered to obtain the Soul Stone took place far away, with only one witness.” She looked at Clint with compassion. “I have made it a personal mission to promote worldwide the awareness of what Natasha did for all of us, as she embraced death on a desolate, forsaken planet.</p>
<p>“While I served under her command during the Interim, she told me she regarded herself as living on borrowed time. Not that she expected a short lifespan, but that she had escaped death, and worse, on multiple occasions. She therefore was extremely thankful for every day she had been given. She was equally grateful to her comrades: those who had literally rescued her and those whose care had saved her sanity and, she believed, her soul.”</p>
<p>To his surprise, Clint wasn’t having to pretend to be moved. He blinked back tears.</p>
<p>“Natasha carried a burden of guilt for actions in her early life that she recognized later as cruel, immoral. I heard her use the word ‘monster’ to describe herself. Though she had been subjected to abuse and brainwashing, and was recognized as not responsible for these actions, she nevertheless sought to atone through her service here. Many of us can relate to such regrets from our past.” She paused to collect herself, and in the front row Bucky barely maintained his composure.</p>
<p>“Over the years, she saved countless lives through Avengers group endeavors, as well as by her solo efforts. I believe her greatest victory took place aside from any mission. It is said that success is the best revenge. Perhaps the best <i>redemption</i> was her becoming a compassionate woman of integrity, in the face of daunting personal obstacles. Someone I was proud to serve alongside.</p>
<p>“Her desire to make the world a better place, along with her boundless courage, led to her decision on Vormir: to trade her future for ours. She is the very definition of a hero. The people of Wakanda, of America, of the planet Earth and beyond, owe her a great debt.” Okoye saluted and pronounced a blessing in Wakandan. “May Bast protect her and grant her peace.”</p>
<p>From the audience, there was only one response, in the same language: “Let it be so,” Bucky said distinctly.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0050"><h2>50. Memories</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>As the memorial service winds down after the touching eulogies, the poignancy of the photos, mementos, and feelings of the attendees is palpable. Bucky and Okoye reveal some surprising information to Wanda, and she perceives several things that no one says out loud.</p><p>Rating: Teen and Up<br/>Content note: general discussions of death</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Rhodey stood and spoke to wrap up the memorial service. “We thank everyone for coming today. Please stay for the potluck and help eat all this food. From the looks of things we’re pretty damn good cooks here. One more note: the background music playing during dinner will be selections that were favorites of Vision, Natasha, and Steve.”</p><p>People finished dabbing at their eyes and blowing their noses, and got up to give each other hugs. They began to mill around and re-sort themselves. Sam headed to the sound system controls to kick off the playlist on a song he preferred—getting the <i>Trouble Man</i> theme in before <i>Das Lied von der Erde</i>.</p><p>The Wakandan trio returned to their previous spot by the window. It was soothing to look outside at the trees, even as they became hard to distinguish in the twilight.</p><p>“This was very well done,” Tumeli declared.</p><p>Mutombo nodded assent, and was concerned their leader did not respond. She asked delicately, “Do you wish to withdraw for awhile, General?”</p><p>Okoye took a deep breath and answered, “No, I shall remain. I will be all right in a moment. The ceremony was more emotional for me than I thought it would be, knowing what we know.”</p><p>“The eulogy for Vision was quite poignant,” Tumeli said.</p><p>“True, but even Steve’s portion was affecting. It disturbed me to see the effect of his loss, and the grief for Natasha while I was speaking. Not being able to reveal . . . anything to these people who are still hurting is difficult.”</p><p>Desta wished she could comfort Okoye with a hug, or even a mere pat on the arm, but in public that would not do for a Dora Milaje and head of the armed forces.</p><p>Near the front of the room, Sam returned to Bucky’s side and asked how he felt.</p><p>“Doing fine. I’m kind of . . . lighter, after putting it all out there in front of God and everybody. Thanks for talking me into it. You would’ve been appropriate to speak for him too.”</p><p>“No, this was perfect. Great job. Proud of you,” Sam said sincerely.</p><p>Bucky smiled wanly and they gave each other a bro hug. Sam squared his shoulders and declared, “All right. I’ma man up and approach the wall of attitude over by the window. They seem even tougher than they were earlier, ‘cause of trying not to look upset. You coming along?”</p><p>“Nah, I’ll leave you to go it alone. I want to talk to Wanda before she gets mobbed. For those ladies, think of it as the ‘wall of dignity’ instead,” Buck suggested. “Don’t be skeered.”</p><p>Barnes patted him encouragingly and strolled away. Sam took a deep breath and shot his cuffs before heading for the Wakandans.</p><p>He needn’t have worried. The three were delighted to speak with him and especially courteous and respectful. Okoye explained the absence of the other advisors from her country. “Because a head of state and his entourage would draw focus from the proceedings, his highness decided it would be best if he did not attend. Princess Shuri was not sure she would be able to control her emotions so decided at the last moment to back out. I hope Sgt. Barnes and Ms. Maximoff are not offended.”</p><p>“Not at all. His highness was thoughtful to consider the effect of his rank. No one expected a full complement of advisors; people are busy and notice was relatively short. Brunnhilde was unable to come because negotiations between New Asgard and Norway are heating up,” Sam informed them. “We’re gratified that Wakanda is represented by you and your esteemed colleagues. It’s an excellent opportunity for us to meet.” He smiled charmingly at Okoye’s companions, particularly Tumeli.</p><p>The four continued talking as across the room Pepper hugged Wanda then headed toward the food tables. She aimed to help Happy rescue Hank from Peter’s fanboying. As she left, Bucky stepped forward.</p><p>“Hey, Wanda. You did fantastic,” he said. “No fair making me follow that. Almost started crying.”</p><p>“Aw, thank you. Your speech was stellar. And wow—that was more words than I’ve ever heard you say.”</p><p>Bucky looked down and had to stop himself from literally scuffing his shoe on the carpet. “Thanks. That <i>is</i> the longest I’ve talked in one shot in a long time.”</p><p>“Since you Returned?”</p><p>“Since 1944.”</p><p>“Oh, my,” she said. They laughed and shed some of the tension of the ceremony.</p><p>“Okoye’s eulogy was also lovely. I didn’t realize they knew each other that well. A lot happened with the Remainers that we don’t know about, I guess,” Wanda mused.</p><p>“On Natasha’s collage, there’s a photo with her and the general probably taken after the Battle of Wakanda,” speculated Bucky. “That had to be a bonding experience, being left there together when we dusted away. Must’ve been like a nightmare. It was shocking for us but we didn’t have to endure half the world being dead. For years.”</p><p>“Yeah. From talking with the Remainers I know well, it was hugely traumatic. The scene was rough for us when we Returned—so disorienting—but it didn’t last nearly as long.”</p><p>Close-mouthed as he had been for so many years, Barnes hadn’t told his Snap and Blip experiences to anyone before. Not even Steve, who, after a flash of elation at Bucky’s return, had been gloomy and preoccupied. “I remember starting to dissolve, that weird feeling. I called out to Steve. He looked at me completely horrified, and I fell. Then nothing, blankness. And seconds later, or so it seemed, I was standing in the same place again. You and Sam and his highness were there, and poor Groot, who nobody could understand. To us it was like everyone <i>else</i> had disappeared.”</p><p>“I’d felt something dire happening and gave in to it. I didn’t really care right then,” Wanda said tersely. “I have some memories of where I was during that Interim. Very strange and I haven’t sorted them out yet. But I suddenly came back. I was sitting right where I had been, and Vision’s body was gone. That was incredibly confusing for me.”</p><p>“Then they rounded us up and told us what’d happened,” Bucky remembered. “And that we needed to hit the ground running for a big showdown back in the States.”</p><p>“It was good I had something to focus on. Fighting . . . him, who killed Vision outright and dusted us. Going all out against his forces.” She paused and looked troubled. “Bruce told me how hard it was for the Remainers, to not have anything tangible to grieve over, since we all crumbled into nothing. Now, Natasha and Steve don’t have graves or urns or anything either.”</p><p>“Yeah, Sam talks about ‘closure’ and it’s hard when they just seem . . . absent.”</p><p>Wanda looked like she was going to cry again, and she spoke in a quiet voice. “I actually don’t know what they did with Vision’s body. I haven’t gotten it together to ask, because I’m not sure I want to know. I doubt they buried him, like a regular human. Maybe they kept him for spare parts,” she said in a feeble attempt at black humor.</p><p>Bucky was dismayed. He didn’t want to be the one to have to discuss something so fraught with her, but it looked like he was in the hot seat.</p><p>“Bucky?” She could see he was thinking something key about Vision.</p><p>“I, uh, can’t say I know a hundred percent where Vision is, but I know what Steve told me,” he began. Wanda stared at him in apprehension.</p><p>“He said they took extra good care of Vision’s remains after the battle. Both because it was him, and because he kind of stood in for the people around him that had dusted. Like us. He was all they had left. After the wounded and combat dead out on the battlefield were tended to, Steve carried him to a hovercraft. The Wakandans took him to Birnin Zana, with an honor guard. I can’t imagine they would have discarded him after that.”</p><p>Wanda looked unsteady, and Bucky put his right hand on her arm. “I’ve talked to Shuri a few times since we got back,” he said. “To catch up on my friends down there. I can call her and ask what happened.”</p><p>“Or I could find out from Okoye today,” Wanda said with determination. Next to the window, Sam and Okoye stood by themselves, she saw. Tumeli and Mutombo were at the memorial tables again.</p><p>Desta was reading Steve’s open letter to TAO. It had been coated with a special removable polymer so it could be handled without degradation. The handwriting was a beautiful Palmer Method cursive in straight lines. Standing next to her, Sharon forlornly examined his dog tags, which lay atop his Medal of Honor case, both of which he’d left in the Brooklyn apartment. On a mini easel sat his 1943 sketch of a monkey on a unicycle with an umbrella and star-spangled shield. The drawing was wrinkled and the bottom edge burned away, having been salvaged from the ruins of his desk in the destroyed headquarters. It had been carefully framed.</p><p>The electronic collage allowed the viewer to choose from several thumbnails and bring up each image with caption. A picture from early 2016 showed him in uniform holding a toddler. The little boy’s gaze was locked on Steve’s smiling face though he pointed at the camera and urged the child to look toward it. There was a grainy image of him with his arms around two participants in a 2020 group therapy session. A candid shot on the bridge of the helicarrier with Natasha, Bruce, and Fury, the day they met. A still from a propaganda film of Steve and Bucky sharing a laugh. His boot camp pre-Rebirth photo. A sepia-toned portrait of an undersized but cute and cheerful one-year-old on the lap of his doting mother.</p><p>Leaning against the front of the table was his shattered shield, which had been left untouched, smeared with dirt, soot, and blood.</p><p>Hope and Scott stood somberly at Natasha’s table looking at her keepsakes. All had been salvaged from the HQ wreckage, and showed it. A pair of scorched ballet slippers. A Stark Industries business card with the name Natalie Rushman, torn almost in half. Her National Intelligence Cross, the medal slightly bent, on a frayed ribbon. Propped next to it was her pencil portrait in the broken frame that Rhodey had showed Okoye on the holocall. A bookmark, designed to contain a small flower in a delicate glass press, that instead held a genuine, flattened four-leaf clover. On one side, the bookmark was inscribed in neat cursive: “Dear Natasha, may you have all the good luck—and everything—you deserve.” On the other, Natasha’s precise printing read: “From Steve, 2016.”</p><p>The collage included a blurry group of young teen girls in two lines; their matching shirts with Cyrillic writing identified a summer camp, and one red-haired girl was circled. A headshot from Nat’s modeling days soon after she’d defected. A 2010 image showing her and Clint mugging for the camera with the Eiffel Tower in the background. A snapshot from a 2015 training session of her and Steve, both suited up, conferring over a tablet. The photo of Romanov and three Dora Milaje listening to Okoye at the Battle of Wakanda. A still from the HQ kitchen shot in 2022: Natasha, surprised by the videographer, in workout clothes with hair loosely braided. She holds a table knife, a Jif jar on the counter in front of her.</p><p>Sam had spotted Wanda and Bucky looking toward him and waved them over. The three eulogists congratulated each other and made small talk for a minute. Then Okoye’s face grew tense and she announced, “There is something I must speak with Ms. Maximoff privately about.” She looked at Wilson and Barnes, clearly requesting them to step away.</p><p>“General, now that Nat and Steve are gone, these boys are the closest thing I have to family,” Wanda said.</p><p>Bucky was surprised and touched—apparently her brotherly feeling for Sam, cultivated during their time underground, was being transferred to him as well.</p><p>“Anything you have to tell me about Vision is OK to say in front of them. Preferable, really,” Wanda insisted.</p><p>“I did not say that the topic was Vision,” Okoye responded.</p><p>“I know,” said Wanda.</p><p>“As you wish,” Okoye said. “I realized on the flight here that no one has informed you of the whereabouts of Vision’s body.”</p><p>Given what she and Barnes had just discussed, Wanda was unsurprised when this turned out to be the revelation. Synchronicity was in the air.</p><p>“The situation presented a conundrum,” Okoye explained. “The remaining Avengers were urgently needed elsewhere because of the crises that arose from the Snap, so it was up to Wakandans to make decisions about his funeral. We resolved to treat him the same as a human being, but it seemed improper to bury him—his remains would not return to the earth as burial assumes. Cremation was inadvisable, if not impossible, given his composition. So we built a special vault inside the tunnels behind Wakandan Design Group headquarters. He is wrapped in a traditional Golden Tribe death shroud. He was laid to rest in the vault with a ritual appropriate to a great warrior, conducted by our preeminent shaman. The queen mother herself attended, as well as I and many others who wished to pay respect. His remains are maintained in a perfect environment for long-term preservation. The monument is a stone panel inlaid with vibranium letters: his name, birth and death dates, and—”</p><p>Okoye broke off briefly, then raised her head high and continued. “It seems serendipitous that we chose for his tomb the same quotation from the Christian gospel that you did for your eulogy: ‘Greater love has no man than this, that he lay down his life for his friends.’”</p><p>The three Avengers were stunned. Then Buck and Sam, who flanked Wanda, reached out in the same instant to put a hand on her shoulder in support.</p><p>“You are welcome at any time to visit, as an honored guest of the Wakandan government. Or, of course, to direct us to transport the body elsewhere if you choose,” Okoye finished.</p><p>“Vision is in storage,” Wanda said slowly.</p><p>Okoye gazed at her a moment. “I suppose one could say that. It seemed to us that his form should be preserved for posterity. In Wakanda, it is our custom that our ancestors’ remains, after a proper period of mourning, may be studied scientifically, if it could result in a benefit to the living. Perhaps it will be so with Vision someday. In any event, if you have another disposition in mind now that you are Returned, his body has been kept safe.”</p><p>Wanda looked out over the heads of the crowd. There was something odd happening in the non-ordinary space in the room, but she couldn’t quite see or grasp what it was. As powerful as her insight could be, she had much to learn to take full advantage. She wished Strange were on hand. Then again, maybe he was.</p><p>“At the moment, I can’t imagine anywhere better than the resting place you’ve described,” Wanda said. “Thank you for taking such good care of him. I’m going to have to sit with this awhile before making any decisions.”</p><p>“Of course,” Okoye said kindly. “There is no hurry. Vision is welcome to abide with us as long as you deem appropriate. If you regard Wakanda as his final home, it would be our privilege to keep him in perpetuity.”</p><p>“Might I request a great favor?”</p><p>“Certainly,” answered Okoye.</p><p>“May I hug you?”</p><p>Okoye smiled and opened her arms, and Wanda stepped in and tightly embraced the wiry general.</p><p>Across the room, Tumeli happened to look toward Okoye at that moment and almost dropped Natasha’s remembrance book in shock.</p><p>As Wanda’s thick head of hair rested against Okoye’s clean-shaven scalp, the younger woman’s mind suddenly flooded with visual impressions. They were short and rapid-fire, like a film with a multitude of quick cuts. There were glimpses related to Vision: the dark gray monument with silvery writing Okoye had described; Steve trudging across the battlefield bearing his heavy, battered form; blond Natasha in a hovercraft folding his arms across his chest as he lay on its floor.</p><p>There were other visuals, which Wanda intuited were also from Okoye’s memory. Steve, bloodied and staggering, holding half a shield, against a smoking hellscape of ruin. Natasha asleep or unconscious on a gurney, long red hair flung across the pillow, in a white and red tac suit of a type unfamiliar to Wanda. Steve and Nat in exercise gear walking side by side down a trail near what appeared to be a waterfall. Natasha seated in a hovercraft, braid flying in the wind, laughing uproariously. Smiling Steve wearing an embroidered shirt of some kind, giving the Wakandan salute.</p><p>Okoye gave Wanda a final squeeze and stepped back from their embrace. Her smile faded under Wanda’s intense gaze, and her eyes narrowed. “Wanda. Are you attempting to read my mind?” she asked.</p><p>Wanda looked away guiltily. “Being so close to you, I was picking up some things.”</p><p>Okoye frowned. “I do not think you are supposed to do that without asking.”</p><p>“I’m not. Violates my protocols. But I wasn’t trying. I couldn’t help it. I saw glimpses about Vision, Natasha, and Steve, probably because you’re remembering them so strongly. Or because something is weird today overall.” She looked up again. It was as though the air were shimmering slightly in certain places, but as soon as she focused on one the anomaly moved or disappeared.</p><p>“What did you see?” Okoye said sternly. Had the woman perceived anything that would betray Natasha and Steve’s secrets?</p><p>Bucky and Sam glanced at each other behind Wanda’s back then noticed that Mutombo and Tumeli were headed toward them. The encounter had started to feel very strange.</p><p>“Brief images, like a few seconds,” Wanda said. “Episodes from taking care of Vision. A couple of battlefield views. Random snippets of Nat and Steve, I’m guessing from times they visited Wakanda back in the day. Nothing personal to you, really.”</p><p>Wanda did not appear to Okoye to be surprised by anything she had seen, so that likely meant nothing had been inadvertently disclosed—about Steve and Natasha’s new relationship, or any other view that could clue her that they were alive and in Africa together right now. She would have to be cautious about dealing with Wanda in the future. It was well to remember not only her powers but how close she had been with the pair; no doubt the bonds of friendship attuned her to information about them, from both ordinary and extraordinary channels.</p><p>“Very well. It is an uncommon day for us all,” Okoye said aloud. “I admit I will be pleased to return to familiar surroundings tonight.” Tumeli and Desta were now standing by, stony faced but consumed with curiosity. “My colleagues and I will partake of the food that everyone has graciously brought before we leave for home.”</p><p>“Uh, thanks for bringing dishes to share,” Sam interjected. “You certainly didn’t have to. They look delicious.”</p><p>“The goat stew is a specialty of the palace chef, Gana. It is to be eaten with the ugali. I think you will find it very good,” Desta said proudly. Gana was a distant relative.</p><p>“The other one is labeled kao moo dang. That’s not Wakandan,” Bucky noted.</p><p>“Ooh, I love Thai food. Also from the talented Gana?” Sam asked.</p><p>“No, it was made by a volunteer who wished to contribute,” replied Tumeli, successfully suppressing a smirk.</p><p>Okoye silently willed Tumeli and Desta not to think too hard about the identity of the volunteer.</p><p>“You have a Thai chef in the Golden City?” Wanda said in surprise.</p><p>“We have many interesting people in Wakanda,” said Okoye with a serene smile.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0051"><h2>51. Shedding Light</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Shuri and Dr. M’Gaji ask Steve to undergo a diagnostic scan, which shows just how much of an outlier he is. A second, new type of scan—though it makes Natasha apprehensive—reveals more interesting data about his internal makeup.</p>
<p>Rating: Teen and Up<br/>Content note: none</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hi everybody! Fair warning: in chapters 51, 52, and 54, I engage in “rationalizing the impossible,” trying to Make Sense out of a few off-the-wall aspects of canon, as I introduce some new concepts. My principal goal was to introduce plot devices to pay off down the line, but I ended up needing to contend with preexisting Plot Holes to make sense of my own artifices. </p>
<p>Hashing out the genesis of our favorite supersoldier and some of his analogues addresses a couple of issues that particularly stick in my craw as OMG Plot Holes. I mean, I can deal with copious “phlebotinum” (fake science claptrap) if it sounds vaguely plausible and logical; I don’t like it when storytellers pretend that phlebotinum isn’t even needed.</p>
<p>I recognize the inherent problem in retconning a superhero story (a type of fantasy) into something resembling a techno thriller. I won’t go too far in trying to explain the inexplicable, but the characters will discuss what could be science (even if hand-wavy in-universe science) and what may be space magic or woo masquerading as science.</p>
<p>Some of you will find this confrontation of realism with the unrealistic a fun exercise, others will regard it as wordy and dull. I’ll give everybody a break with Chapter 53, a down-to-earth scene focused on emotion. Then another chapter to wrap up the convoluted conversation and we’ll be back to a more conventional plot, one that’s only dialogue-heavy and not ridiculously dialogue-heavy.</p>
<p>Thank you for sticking with it and skimming only when you have to ;-)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Are you comfortable?” Dr. M’Gaji asked in English after adjusting a neck pillow.</p>
<p>“Just fine,” Steve answered.</p>
<p>He lay on his back on the main scanning table in Design Group headquarters, about half a kilometer from the palace. The building was partly inside a hill, with access to a tunnel and bunker system for maximum security—and safety, given the magnitude of their more dangerous experiments.</p>
<p>Instead of her usual handheld microscanner, M’Gaji triggered an automatic mechanism. A bronze-colored bar, about seventy-five centimeters wide and emitting a faint light downward, levitated smoothly from the end of the table. It tracked slowly over Steve’s sandaled feet and began the long trip up his trousered legs.</p>
<p>“Princess Shuri no doubt explained that today’s scan is comprehensive, so will take longer than the ones Ms. Sheen underwent regularly,” the doctor said.</p>
<p>“Yep,” Steve confirmed. “Um, my nose itches. Can I move or should I wait?”</p>
<p>“Feel free to move whenever you need to. The scanner will pause if motion makes it impossible to image at the resolutions selected, then resume.”</p>
<p>“Or I can scratch your nose for you,” Natasha said helpfully. She stood on his left near his head.</p>
<p>“Thanks, but I’ll handle it,” he said with a chuckle, and did so.</p>
<p>“I don’t remember getting a scan like this,” Nat remarked to M’Gaji.</p>
<p>“We performed your initial comprehensive when you were still unconscious.”</p>
<p>“Does it tickle?” Natasha asked Steve playfully.</p>
<p>“Doesn’t feel like anything, but the sound is interesting. Some ultra high and low tones, and the ones in the middle blend nicely—like a minor chord, maybe.”</p>
<p>M’Gaji looked surprised. “You can hear the scanner?” She bent close to the moving bar and listened a moment. “I have never had a subject tell me that before, and I can detect no noise.”</p>
<p>“Welcome to Steve World,” Natasha told her. “Try sneaking up on him sometime.”</p>
<p>The scanning mechanism hovered a consistent fifteen centimeters above his body and had reached the bottom of his embroidered tunic. “After this pass is done, we will ask you to turn over for the second,” said the doctor. “The two will be combined to compensate for the internal effects of gravity and flattening against the table, giving a more accurate picture. We could have you stand for the scan, but we wish you to be as relaxed as possible.”</p>
<p>“I’m surprised the table doesn’t hold him up magnetically or something,” said Natasha.</p>
<p>“We do that for some scans. Today we are imaging to a cellular level throughout. In a few sample areas, we will focus down to the molecular level. The strong levitation magnetism could affect those results.”</p>
<p>Without moving his head, Steve turned his eyes to Natasha and gave her a little smile. The man is adorable, she thought to herself as she smiled back. Would the exam reveal the structure of the cells and pigment that produced the blue of his eyes? She suspected that neither biology nor chemistry would explain the true nature of their appeal.</p>
<p>“Usually the hologrammed results would start showing up by now, above his body,” Nat noted. “Nothing yet?”</p>
<p>“For the comprehensive scan, the computer performs system separations and comparative analyses on the data. The hologram will also be minutely detailed,” M’Gaji explained. “The number-crunching is extensive, and down to the DNA level. It takes a few minutes.”</p>
<p>After the second pass was complete, Steve got up and they awaited the hologram’s appearance. At that point Shuri, with a white lab coat over her dress like M’Gaji, bustled up.</p>
<p>“Oh good, I am in time to see the initial results with you,” she said excitedly.</p>
<p>As if on cue, an image of Steve, startlingly like the real thing standing nearby, appeared hovering horizontally over the table.</p>
<p>“Whoa—that doesn’t look like the body holograms I’ve had,” Nat exclaimed.</p>
<p>“Your routine diagnostics were run through the adequate but not top-end computers in the palace. The comprehensive scan we do here takes advantage of our central computing power,” M’Gaji said. “Instead of the translucent framework you’ve seen, this hologram portrays the body in all its detail in natural color.”</p>
<p>Natasha nodded. “Yeah, the WDG10 system is a beast. This is amazing.” She cocked her head as she contemplated the simulacrum. “Um, it leaves his clothes on?”</p>
<p>“For propriety’s sake in the initial display,” Shuri explained with a grin. “His entire body has indeed been imaged. We will skip the skin layer and go right to the musculature first.”</p>
<p>“Thank you,” said Steve quietly.</p>
<p>“No problem,” Shuri said cheerfully.</p>
<p>With the doctor operating the holographic controls, they reviewed incredibly detailed 3D images of Steve’s physical systems: neural, nervous, sensory, muscular, skeletal, cardiac, vascular, pulmonary, digestive, reproductive/glandular, and immune/hepatic/renal. As each appeared, Shuri pointed out anomalies—all positive ones in his case. M’Gaji reported the executive summary given for each category, which was boringly repetitive:</p>
<p>
  <b>•This system and all its subsystems operating at 100% optimal capacity</b>
</p>
<p>
  <b>•No negative anomalies detected</b>
</p>
<p>
  <b>•Scores in the top 0.0000000005% of comparable human systems</b>
</p>
<p>“The skin system result is the same,” M’Gaji said blandly without switching to the image.</p>
<p>“The same tiny percentage is shown on each summary. What does it mean?” Natasha asked.</p>
<p>“We have a substantial diagnostic reference pool to compare patients with,” M’Gaji explained. “The application then extrapolates an estimate of how the subject’s body system compares with humans worldwide. A percentage is calculated; today we use the December 2023 population number of just over eight billion. This percentage indicates that . . . ” She used a gesture to generate a new result. “Mr. Holden is one of the top four <i>Homo sapiens</i> individuals in terms of physical structure and function.”</p>
<p>“That’s what I’d expect,” Nat said. “Still, seeing the number is impressive.”</p>
<p>Steve looked slightly troubled. “I can’t tell you why, but it makes me feel weird.”</p>
<p>“What I want to know is, who are the other three contenders, and how do we get rid of them?” Natasha asked with mock belligerence.</p>
<p>Shuri and M’Gaji laughed, and the joke got a smile out of Steve as well.</p>
<p>“The calculation is so statistically inexact as to be functionally meaningless in such an outlier case,” the princess clarified. “And should we bother to compare him to other people at all? If the application regards a system as too far outside the species norm, it generates a recommendation not to do so. In his case it has indeed made comparisons. It has also deemed T’Challa and Sgt. Barnes, fellow extreme cases, normal enough to compare with other humans. It excluded Vision, for obvious reasons, and I would venture a guess that it would exclude Dr. Banner and Capt. Danvers. I suspect their DNA is now too different.”</p>
<p>Steve looked thoughtful. “Hm, I wonder about Wanda, and Peter. Dr. Strange too.”</p>
<p>Shuri nodded eagerly. “I would be thrilled to obtain baselines on all enhanced human beings. We could learn so much.”</p>
<p>“As an Avengers advisor, maybe you’ll talk them into it,” Steve said.</p>
<p>“Where does ‘Mr. Holden’ stack up against Bucky and the king?” Natasha asked impatiently.</p>
<p>“You’re so competitive, Nat,” Steve said, shaking his head. “It doesn’t matter.”</p>
<p>“We could run a comparison specifically with each of them, detail for detail,” M’Gaji said.</p>
<p>“That’s silly. I’m not in favor of that,” Steve said, rather sternly.</p>
<p>“Agreed. Let’s take a quick look at the full report,” Shuri said, changing the subject. M’Gaji passed her a holographic tablet with a list in Wakandan script. With a toss of her hand Shuri rotated the page to reveal an English version.</p>
<p>Subject Full Name: <b>Steven Grant Rogers</b></p>
<p>Common Form of Address: <b>Steve Rogers</b></p>
<p>Known Aliases/Nicknames: <b>Steve Holden, Captain America</b></p>
<p>Species: <b><i>Homo sapiens sapiens</i></b></p>
<p>Survival Status: <b>Living, Active</b></p>
<p>Birthdate: <b>3 July 1918</b></p>
<p>Birthplace: <b>New York City, United States of America, Earth</b></p>
<p>Date of Examination: <b>20 December 2023</b></p>
<p>Age (solar years): <b>105*</b></p>
<p>Primary Residence: <b>Birnin Zana, Wakanda, Earth**</b></p>
<p>Standing Height (cm): <b>186.60</b></p>
<p>Recumbent Length (cm): <b>189.22</b></p>
<p>Weight (kg): <b>100.11</b></p><ul>
  <li>General Notes - Known to have undergone the following: Erskine serum (final formulation) and “Vita-Ray” treatments, June 1943; multidecade uncontrolled cryopreservation in Earth Arctic water ice; multistage use of Avengers time apparatus, including travel to multiple extra-Solar System planets; recent, continuous residence in a split timeline for several months. Disease and physical damage extant in early life completely resolved after Erskine procedures.</li>
</ul>
<ul>
  <li>* Precise “lived age” determination requires consultation with subject because of cryopreservation and time travel; current estimate 40 years.</li>
</ul>
<ul>
  <li>**Visitor/Immigrant Classification 7. Do not disclose identity or presence in Wakanda to anyone beneath Level 7 security clearance without express consent of subject.</li>
</ul>
<p>“You guys got his birthdate wrong,” Natasha teased Shuri in a singsong voice.</p>
<p>The princess raised an eyebrow and looked at Steve, who chuckled. “It’s accurate, actually. Brandt decided to change it to the Fourth of July. He couldn’t pass up the propaganda opportunity, and I never bothered to correct it later. People loved that little ‘coincidence.’ How’d you dig up the actual date?”</p>
<p>“War Dogs are thor-ough,” the princess sang, mimicking Nat’s tune. She stuck her tongue out at Natasha and they both grinned.</p>
<p>“Well, we can start celebrating your real birthday this year,” Natasha suggested.</p>
<p>On the “Current Status” screen, Shuri scrolled past lists of details. The first were precise measurements of external and internal parts; percentages of body weight for organs, fat, muscle, and bone; muscle fiber types and percentages; bone densities; volume and flow metrics; and specific chemical compounds. The lists continued from there.</p>
<p>“The data are extensive, as you can see,” she said. “We will conduct a full analysis with a focus on the anti-aging, immune, and injury repair properties of interest. I will also sift through to ascertain anything you would find useful.” Her eyes flickered over the scrolling text for a few seconds, then she halted it. “Here is an interesting fact: your overall physiological age approximation is thirty-two years. You are indeed aging, but at a rate of about half normal since the date of the Erskine procedure,” Shuri informed him.</p>
<p>“Wow. I’m not sure how I feel about that,” Natasha said.</p>
<p>“Me neither. I’ve guessed it to be the case, but it’s odd to have it quantified,” Steve agreed.</p>
<p>“It will take many years for you to age out of top tier status in terms of structural integrity, health, and function,” Shuri said. “Project Rebirth put you quite far ahead.”</p>
<p>“I guess that’s a plus. So, you’ll let me know if you find anything else. Any further way we can help here today?” During the conversation, he’d inched closer to Natasha and discreetly rested a hand on her lower back, making them both tingle.</p>
<p>“Yes, there is one more thing,” Shuri said with a glance at M’Gaji. “Please bring up the TDE progress summary.” The doctor touched a control at the foot of the table. Steve’s hologram winked out and a different one appeared, showing only a palmprint reader. She used her hand to unlock it, and a virtual page reading “Transdimensional Energy Research - TDE” came up.</p>
<p>“By fortunate accident, we have stumbled across a phenomenon we believe has never been studied scientifically,” Shuri began. “Through a novel radiological detection method that is extremely technical to explain, we have discovered a new ‘energy’ that manifests within the human body. We use the term vaguely and generally. We have determined that it is definitely not part of the standard electromagnetic spectrum; molecular activation and many other possibilities have also been excluded. We frankly do not yet know what this phenomenon is or what it does. However, we can reliably, repeatably detect <i>something</i> with the new scan technique that shows up as an appearance of light. With a persistent and consistent pattern.”</p>
<p>Steve reread the hologram. “Why are you calling it transdimensional?”</p>
<p>“Because I strongly suspect an origin outside of four-dimensional spacetime. That could account for why it has not previously been technologically detected. About two weeks ago, a technician rigged a device improperly and we saw a new image on a scan that should have shown nothing. The phenomenon is . . . spooky. That is the only way I can describe it. When I heard about the experience of Joe Pinkerton, I immediately associated it with this, though the correlation seems thin. To me, this energy and his dreams both appear to be ‘bleeding through’ from somewhere else into our reality. The discussion about the non-ordinary communication effects of the Heart-Shaped Herb was also an ‘a-ha’ moment for me. I now regard this investigation as a top priority, but it is in its early stages. We have scanned eighteen people so far.”</p>
<p>“Why so few, if you’re so interested?” Nat asked.</p>
<p>“It is highly confidential, for one thing. Our pool of possible volunteers with appropriate security clearances is small. Also, because the technique is so new, we cannot absolutely guarantee its safety. However, we do not believe the radiation profile we are using is harmful, and the scan is brief.”</p>
<p>“You want Steve to do it?” Natasha said worriedly.</p>
<p>“Yes. We would particularly like to see his results. I myself, and his highness, underwent the scan with no ill effects,” Shuri said encouragingly. “This phenomenon—TDE for short—appears as a ball of light in the center of the chest near the heart, with a smaller locus deep in the brain near the pineal gland.” She gestured toward those locations on her own body.</p>
<p>On the hologrammed report, M’Gaji swiped through several 3D images: outlines of a variety of body shapes, much less crisply detailed than the common diagnostic holograms. Each outline contained a dark featureless background and showed small white spheres, with fuzzy, indistinct boundaries, in the chest and skull.</p>
<p>“Every person we have examined shows these spheres in the same locations, with some size and brightness difference among individuals,” said Shuri.</p>
<p>“I’m game, as long as we’re here,” Steve said. “I’m resistant to all sorts of radiation, so I’m sure it’ll be fine.”</p>
<p>Natasha admonished herself to be calm, and said nothing more. Steve’s a big boy, she affirmed, though a wrinkle of worry appeared on her forehead.</p>
<p>Steve lay down again and M’Gaji swept over him at a moderate pace with a handheld jury-rigged contraption much less elegant than the tech all around them.</p>
<p>“Does this scanner make noise too?” the doctor asked curiously. “I cannot hear anything.”</p>
<p>“Yep. Louder, actually. More high tones, and major chords mostly. The occasional dissonance, like a diminished seventh maybe.”</p>
<p>Natasha was surprised. “I didn’t know you knew any music theory.”</p>
<p>“I took piano lessons for awhile as a kid,” Steve revealed. “Had to quit because I was sick so much, though.”</p>
<p>“We are in the first phase of our study, in which we document the spheres and speculate on their function,” Shuri explained as the scan went on. “The locations made us wonder whether TDE is perhaps associated with an essential life force, or with powerful feelings such as compassion or anger. We performed a functional scan four days ago on three volunteers, linking the device to imaging in real time. That requires longer exposure, so I have not requested that you undergo it. We asked the subjects to call up specific strong emotions and vivid thoughts. Some of these did cause the spheres to grow, shrink, or brighten, but not by much.”</p>
<p>“Any ideas about the differences among subjects?” Natasha asked, intrigued in spite of her misgivings.</p>
<p>“It could be natural, a trait intrinsic to the person like sharp or dim eyesight,” Shuri said. “It could be conferred, induced, or cultivated. Or some of each. Thirteen of the subjects showed TDE spheres about six centimeters in diameter in the chest, four in the head. One of the functionally scanned volunteers is an experienced meditator, and known to be a compassionate person. Her spheres were a few centimeters larger than that.”</p>
<p>M’Gaji finished the process and set aside the clunky scanner. “Now the computer system generates the image. It will take a couple of minutes.”</p>
<p>Steve sat up. “Seems like there’s something else you want to say, Shuri.” He’d noted that she’d become subdued, unusual for her.</p>
<p>She fidgeted. “When I asked my brother to submit to this new scan yesterday, I felt both anticipation and apprehension. He has a strong, calming presence, almost tangible; nearly everyone feels it. No apparatus has ever been able to ‘see’ or measure such an effect. I was anxious to discover whether we had found a way, and what his result might be.”</p>
<p>“What happened?” asked Steve.</p>
<p>“T’Challa’s scan showed a TDE locus almost as wide and deep as his chest. The ’sphere’ conformed to the external contours of the body. The one in his brain fills his whole head.” Shuri shook her head, amazed. “By far the largest we have measured. I hypothesize that the anomaly has to do with his ingestion of the Herb.”</p>
<p>“Well, this ought to be interesting,” Natasha said. For some reason, she too felt a thrill of anticipation.</p>
<p>“Mr. Holden, if you would please stand aside—the image will appear over the table as before,” M’Gaji cautioned.</p>
<p>Steve stood up and they watched as the doctor activated the new hologram.</p>
<p>They blinked at it a few seconds in silence.</p>
<p>“I don’t see any structures,” he said, puzzled. “It looks blank inside the outline, sort of washed-out.”</p>
<p>Shuri stared, breathing shallowly, and said nothing.</p>
<p>“What’s the deal?” Natasha asked M’Gaji. “Did the scanner not work properly?”</p>
<p>The physician cleared her throat and pointed weakly to the left elbow of the hologram. “The scan is accurate. This dark spot is part of the neutral, nonactivated area. The brighter parts are where TDE is detected.”</p>
<p>“It fills his entire body,” Shuri said quietly.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0052"><h2>52. The Elephant in the Room</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Steve, Natasha, Shuri, and M’Gaji wrestle with the facts and implications of what Steve’s scan has revealed. He brings up a suspicion about his transformation and is surprised to find that Shuri agrees with him.</p>
<p>Rating: Teen and Up<br/>Content note: none</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“What does all this mean?” Steve asked, waving a hand toward his hologram saturated in light. “The serum causes some weird energy transfer?”</p>
<p>Recovering from her astonishment at the scan results, Shuri answered, “I believe so, but it does not fully account for this remarkable result. The Heart-Shaped Herb potion and the injected serum have similar effects; there are many parallels between those who have received serum and Black Panthers. However, the transdimensional energy we see on your scan is much more extensive than T’Challa’s. I wonder whether the so-called Vita-Rays . . .”</p>
<p>She trailed off and suddenly frowned. “I would give my two fattest oxen to have Sgt. Barnes here to compare.”</p>
<p>“You own oxen?” Steve asked, bewildered.</p>
<p>“A Wakandan idiom,” Shuri said offhandedly, focused on the mystery before her.</p>
<p>“Like giving your eye teeth, or right arm,” Natasha guessed.</p>
<p>Shuri nodded and turned the hologram to a side view. “The two principal TDE loci protrude slightly outside the body,” she noted wonderingly.</p>
<p>“No one knows how Erskine’s ‘Vita-Ray’ chamber worked,” Steve said, remembering that fateful day. “Kruger set off a bomb less than a minute after I got out of it. The blast demolished a section of the lab and incinerated a bunch of documents.”</p>
<p>“Why didn’t Howard Stark replicate the machine, since he was so closely involved?” Natasha asked.</p>
<p>“In addition to equipment that was obliterated, shock waves shattered delicate components,” Steve explained. “Stark’s company had manufactured the apparatus but it couldn’t be reconstructed—the doc had made key parts himself that he didn’t show anybody.”</p>
<p>“The lack of documentation on Project Rebirth has frustrated science for many decades,” M’Gaji said.</p>
<p>“Howard saw Dr. Erskine write in notebooks, though he wasn’t allowed to read them,” Steve confirmed. “Any good scientist would’ve had duplicate notes, formulas, drawings. But none were ever found. Trust me, we looked. Some believe HYDRA destroyed them, but why not steal and use them instead? If their agents had, we’d have seen some result eventually.”</p>
<p>“Or Schmidt was so jealous and megalomaniac that he couldn’t stand the prospect of another super soldier ever being created,” Natasha said.</p>
<p>“Possibly. But my conclusion is that Erskine hid his backups. Too well,” asserted Steve.</p>
<p>“Did not Mr. Stark eventually produce ‘Vita-Rays’?” M’Gaji asked.</p>
<p>“Howard thought he’d reverse-engineered it, but I’ve never been convinced he was on the right track,” said Steve. “His nitramene compound produced an unusual radiation that had effects. Same ones as the original Vita-Ray generator? I don’t know. From what I’ve gathered, he believed he’d nailed the serum too. That did work, more strongly in some ways, but had serious drawbacks.”</p>
<p>Shuri was still concentrating on the hologram, so M’Gaji responded, “Multiple researchers besides Dr. Erskine formulated sera that were shown to be efficacious. Sgt. Barnes, the Winter Soldiers, Dr. Banner, and Capt. Blonsky are the proof. But no one has been able to perfectly reproduce the original formula, nor add radiation in proper balance. The ultimate goal is physical and mental enhancement that does not degrade the body in other ways or cause . . . behavioral issues.”</p>
<p>“You’ve studied ‘super soldier’ programs extensively,” Nat observed.</p>
<p>“Indeed. What I have learned has turned me against them,” M’Gaji replied.</p>
<p>“Bruce’s first self experiment was a cluster—um, it was a mess,” Natasha said. “But he was being deceived about what he was researching.”</p>
<p>“He achieved incredible physical size and strength, far more than other procedures, but poor control,” said Steve. “His Interim gamma radiation work stabilized him, and locked in the most useful alterations. He did an amazing job. But some of the Hulk changes still seem less than optimal if someone were designing an enhancement from scratch.”</p>
<p>“It’s not easy being green,” Natasha quipped.</p>
<p>Shuri finally looked up. “You may represent the optimal case, Steve,” she said. “You are the only experimentee who manifested all the target results, some to a high degree.” She counted them off on her fingers. “Body enlargement, strength and stamina increases, sensory and cognitive improvements, dramatic immune and healing boosts, and extraordinary autoregulation—of factors such as body temperature—in response to external conditions. And you avoided the primary drawbacks: deformity, morphological instability, degraded prefrontal lobe control, and psychosis. Every other known subject failed to exhibit one or more of the changes, suffered a drawback, psychologically broke down, or some of each.”</p>
<p>“Mr. Holden’s enhancements have remained stable for sixteen active years and survived prolonged freezing. Except for natural aging, which is slowed, the changes seem permanent,” M’Gaji added.</p>
<p>Shuri was in full scientific investigator mode now, girlish quirks receded. “The population of enhanced individuals is tiny, but analysis points us in the direction of vita-radiation as key,” said Shuri. “You are the only subject who received it. Serum alone is insufficient to achieve full implementation, as is the Herb alone, and gamma radiation proved ill-suited as a catalyst or stabilizer.”</p>
<p>“If we’re talking about Black Panthers too: Does the Heart-Shaped Herb ever fail?” Natasha asked.</p>
<p>“History shows predictable performance and stability,” Shuri told her. “Two physical failures are reported from past centuries. Both were immediate and caused by improperly prepared or adulterated potions. Also one character failure. Nothing went wrong with the enhancements, but the new Panther soon began to behave in ways that showed he was unworthy of the powers bestowed. Another warrior was given the Herb, and he forced the renegade to ingest the reversal potion.”</p>
<p>“Bucky is stable now—you determined his mental issues weren’t caused by his serum but by the programming and assaults on his brain,” Steve pointed out. “So why focus on the radiation? He and the Black Panthers show that the right potion or serum alone can produce an effective result. Without negative unintended consequences.”</p>
<p>Nat nodded. “Right. They check off everything on your list except actually getting bigger. And frankly, that part is bullshit. These techniques could be ways to make people healthier in general, like you’re studying now. The only reason to go for extreme strength and whatnot is to create super soldiers, the original idea. But you don’t need whole brigades of huge scary dudes. You need a handful of elite, extraordinary fighters. Wakanda gets away with one at a time. Other nations could recruit whatever size individuals they choose for their super force. Or just make smaller people very strong. They don’t have to look like Professor Hulk, or that.” She pointed with her thumb at Steve standing next to her.</p>
<p>“I feel dissed; not sure exactly how,” Steve said with a crooked smile. “I’ll second the notion that enlargement shouldn’t be part of any program. What happened with the two gamma guys was astonishing, but not sustainable or very useful in a practical sense.”</p>
<p>“You wouldn’t want anyone to go through what Bruce has. Terribly traumatic,” Nat warned.</p>
<p>“Yes, his and Blonsky’s exceptional growth, and uncontrolled growth swings, are obviously to be avoided. In Steve’s case the size increase seems to have been fine,” Shuri said.</p>
<p>“Not so fine from my point of view. More than doubling in mass and adding fifteen percent in height almost instantaneously is . . . Let’s just say it produces challenging psychological effects. Long-term. And is physically painful. I don’t recommend it,” he said firmly.</p>
<p>Wakandan culture generally frowned on public displays of affection, so Natasha merely took Steve’s hand and gave it a squeeze. He looked down at her gratefully and squeezed back.</p>
<p>Steve sighed, and decided it was time to bring up what could well be a conversation-killer.</p>
<p>“Extremely accelerated growth. That’s the extra-large elephant in the room, Princess Shuri. Setting aside the serums and the gadgets, there was something else going on—beyond science—that nobody wants to admit.”</p>
<p>He’d thought the scientist would balk at this tangent, but to his surprise Shuri smiled knowingly. “Is this the issue? That your Erskine procedure flagrantly violated the first law of thermodynamics <i>and</i> the principle of conservation of mass?”</p>
<p>He stared at her a few seconds, then laughed. “Well, damn. I’m glad somebody’ll talk about it. From the first, I had an inkling that what took place in that room didn’t make sense. But Erskine was dead, Howard was busy, and there was a war on. I was functional and that’s what mattered. It was my duty to get out there and punch Hitlers and fight HYDRAs and not worry my pretty little head about it.”</p>
<p>“I am fascinated that you recognized the ‘elephant,’ not as a scientist but as a subject. Let us refresh ourselves with some tea and discuss this further,” Shuri suggested.</p>
<p>After tea had been brewed and passed around, the four retired to a private lounge area overlooking a courtyard. Now that his closely held concern had been validated, Steve was eager to explain.</p>
<p>Shuri prompted, “When did you come to understand the problem?”</p>
<p>“Not long after I got out of the ice. I had the opportunity, for the first time since the procedure, to dwell on it. I was trying to get my head around what had occurred in the Arctic, which is a whole other can of worms. My questions about my physical state led me to consider more questions. I had to do some reading before I could articulate <i>why</i> what happened to me in 1943 was impossible—I hadn’t cracked a science text since high school. Then I was apprehensive about saying anything. Everyone seemed to accept the ‘scientific marvel’ that had produced me. Including Bruce, a genius who’d studied the procedure and undergone a form of it. After I got to know him fairly well, which took awhile, I brought it up. A couple of times. He’d sidestep, put me off. I didn’t have the education to understand, he told me. Clearly deflecting. What happened to him and Blonsky, and me, is beyond improbable and he didn’t want to acknowledge it.”</p>
<p>“Dr. Banner may now have a plausible theory, after working on the Interim gamma experiments and time travel. Those would have expanded his scientific horizons,” Shuri said.</p>
<p>“Yeah, but I don’t know if he’d disclose it. And I can’t ask him anymore.”</p>
<p>Natasha was at sea. “Hon, I’m an IT type. You want to talk physics, you have to break it down for me.”</p>
<p>“What would’ve made sense in Project Rebirth is if they’d shot me up with serum and then started feeding me five thousand calories a day. Radiation treatments for ‘serum activation,’ if that was important. Maybe targeted exercise. If the process triggered rapid tissue growth, I could’ve gotten to this size in a few months. That, along with the healing, immune system, and sensory improvements, would have been damned impressive. But as it happened: Where did over sixty kilos of flesh and bone come from in the just over sixty seconds I was in the Vita-Ray chamber? Thin air?”</p>
<p>Nat and M’Gaji stared at Steve in shock. The basic truth of what he’d just said had never occurred to either of them.</p>
<p>He turned to Shuri. “What do <i>you</i> say to the fact that a lot of what happened has to be chalked up to magic?”</p>
<p>“For me, that is no problem,” she said with a shrug. “I understand your frustration. If something is inexplicable through known mechanisms, respectable scientists often ignore or deny its existence. Here in Wakanda, we regard everything as scientifically explainable—eventually. However, we acknowledge there are many things no technology in our world has been able to describe or measure. We also recognize that alien societies have made advances we cannot yet comprehend. As a wise man wrote, any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic.”</p>
<p>“That’s basically what Thor says,” Natasha reminded them.</p>
<p>“Phenomena exist that are confounding. TDE is an example—only recently detected and previously unknown to Earth-based science, though perhaps not to other disciplines. Some aspects of reality we will be able to measure and model scientifically someday; others may remain mysteries. For the currently unexplained, I am comfortable using the term ‘magic.’ Or miracle,” Shuri said.</p>
<p>“Miracles can’t be reliably replicated, though,” argued Steve. “How do you explain what Erskine was up to? He promised the military they could repeat the Rebirth process to create hundreds if not thousands of super soldiers. Was he a charlatan? Maybe his assassination covered up the fact that he was only ever going to create one. Or none. Did he really expect the procedure to work? Was I an accident?”</p>
<p>“You didn’t think he was a quack beforehand, though,” Natasha pointed out.</p>
<p>“No, he seemed sincere, and excited about the experiment, in his quiet way. I didn’t ask him for details on the transformation because it was the Army. I’d signed up to do as I was told. I was grateful for my chance to serve, and assumed I wouldn’t understand anyway. Wasn’t exactly informed consent. I was dumb—I trusted them. Fortunately it worked and I survived.”</p>
<p>“Dr. Erskine became a mystery in the annals of science because of the missing documentation, but I do not believe he was a fraud,” M’Gaji said. “After he escaped Germany, his secrecy increased, but that is understandable. Apparently he did not want his work ever to fall into the wrong hands again. His prototype serum, the formula that Schmidt appropriated, was shown to be at least partially effective, and the version administered to you has worked excellently. He knew what he was doing. I agree that the radiation component of the process is the key, and Dr. Erskine must have designed it so.”</p>
<p>Shuri swirled her cup of tea, brow furrowed with thought. “I regard that as partially correct, Doctor, but Mr. Holden’s skepticism is warranted. I shall explain my new hypothesis. Well, speculation.”</p>
<p>She turned to Steve. “I agree with your suspicion that radiation produced by nitramene is not what facilitated your transformation. Your ‘Vita-Rays’ may have been entirely different, a byproduct of the process, or even a deceptive deflection. I believe the chamber contained some mechanism, radiological or otherwise, that enhanced and connected with a natural phenomenon inside the body. To use a popular term, a portal to a higher dimension, or possibly a wormhole to elsewhere in the universe.”</p>
<p>“Excuse me?” Steve blurted out, and all three of Shuri’s companions stared at her in disbelief.</p>
<p>“A wormhole is basically a tunnel through folded spacetime, a four-dimensional construct. We can model an analogous tunnel into a higher dimension—fifth or sixth, perhaps. Based on our TDE scan results, I postulate that the human body has two natural portals to other dimensions, in the head and chest. Could these portals be enlarged or made more effective? Could they be connected to a wormhole from a faraway energy source?”</p>
<p>“This is . . . outlandish,” Natasha objected.</p>
<p>“Yes, it is. However, the result Steve experienced, evidenced by his very form, is outlandish. As he pointed out, the almost instantaneous addition of mass violated multiple physical principles. So we must accept that the mechanism is unknown to current science—or at least, the explanation is far from obvious. I wonder if a ‘portal upgrade’ happens upon ingestion of the Herb, and therefore accounts for T’Challa’s TDE spheres being larger than average. It might be an explanation for the other known serum-enhanced individuals. Was Dr. Erskine able to enhance the natural portals in this thorough but controlled manner with the serum and chamber combination? Does it explain Steve’s flood of TDE?”</p>
<p>“But this seems equally impossible,” M’Gaji said.</p>
<p>“Not really,” answered Shuri. “I believe one of these mechanisms is actually the simplest solution. Energy can be converted into matter and vice versa, so if Erskine found a way to bring more energy into our 4D world from a higher dimension, that could account for the sudden addition of mass. Or the energy was transferred from a distant location in the universe. No transdimensionality needed.”</p>
<p>Steve had gone pale, aghast. Natasha put a hand on his knee. “Hey, you OK? You look spooked.”</p>
<p>“The Tesseract,” he muttered. “The Space Stone. That’s its basic mechanism. It can transport things between points a galaxy apart.”</p>
<p>Natasha’s eyes widened. “The wormhole that brought the Chitauri.”</p>
<p>“Yes, which you closed with the Mind Stone. Someone who understands the Space Stone can do much more than simple transfer or travel. Like Thanos.” He looked around at the three women. “Can it be coincidence that it was Schmidt who stole and used it to create HYDRA’s initial cache of weapons? And, seemingly of its own volition, the stone opened a wormhole that sent him to Vormir. Then Stark and SHIELD got hold of it . . .”</p>
<p>“The presence of the Space Stone in our world is correlated, but I do not believe there is direct causation,” Shuri insisted. “Dr. Erskine probably knew of Schmidt’s obsession. Perhaps his ravings about the Tesseract gave the doctor an idea to improve upon his serum.”</p>
<p>Steve looked at the floor. “My idea would have been to deep-six it and never speak of it again. Howard should have left it on the bottom of the ocean.”</p>
<p>“Greed for the vast power of the Space Stone led to Schmidt’s undoing,” Shuri asserted. “Dr. Erskine was a man of good faith and good judgment—he would not have wanted anything to do with it directly. A sensible explanation is that Erskine found some analogous method, one that transmitted a controlled amount of energy. He ensured the energy would build matter into customized, stable forms, generating the atoms and molecules needed. Your DNA was triggered to use these building blocks to replicate cells, rapidly, and only of the proper kind to turn Steve Rogers into a much bigger Steve Rogers.”</p>
<p>“It would have to work with the serum to confer a variety of new and enhanced attributes as well,” M’Gaji said. “And ensure his genes would be suitably edited to maintain the changes over time. All at a point in history where DNA was still poorly understood.”</p>
<p>“I can understand why Dr. Erskine was so secretive about the process and his documentation,” the princess continued. “Not just to safeguard it from evildoers. If my hypothesis is true, he would have been shunned by the scientific community had he prematurely revealed the underpinnings and assumptions of his system. They would have laughed in his face, perhaps locked him away as insane. It seems outlandish to us still, and we have seen great theoretical and practical advances since then.”</p>
<p>“To be accepted, he needed proof of concept. A successful test with the chamber,” Natasha said.</p>
<p>“I believe so. To get the science academy of 1943 on board, he had to show it worked—flawlessly. Perhaps he could have collaborated with the Manhattan Project fellows on a more theoretical basis, but they were rather busy and terribly focused.”</p>
<p>“He did succeed, but was silenced,” said M’Gaji.</p>
<p>“Yes. He never had the chance to bring his advances to light, and to full fruition. A great loss,” Shuri said sadly. “Consider it. A transdimensional portal or spacetime wormhole—one more controllable than the Tesseract—combined with an exquisitely tuned matter-synthesizing process. The technology that could be built on these is civilization-changing. Improving human physiology would be only a minor aspect.”</p>
<p>“If this is true . . . Project Rebirth, in itself, was only important as an excuse,” Steve said. “The war was his chance to pursue secret experiments in the guise of creating something useful to the war effort. Oversight would be lax. He wouldn’t have wanted to build horrifying weapons like Schmidt, though—or the Manhattan Project, for that matter. The program was bait, a way to get funding, and top collaborators like Stark. If, while validating his theories, he created a cadre of responsible super soldiers for the good guys, that was gravy.”</p>
<p>“Instead, he turned out just one good guy,” Natasha said.</p>
<p>
  
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0053"><h2>53. Family Breakfast</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>After discussing the group dynamics of the Avengers team—old and new—Bucky gets Sam to come clean about his feelings toward Steve and Natasha. </p>
<p>Rating: Mature<br/>Content note: Four F bombs; discussion of grief, PTSD</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>As the group in Wakanda discussed Steve’s startling situation, Sam was making breakfast at the townhouse he and Bucky shared. He wore a Tulane sweatshirt, board shorts, and an apron. He set a steaming plate down in front of Barnes at the kitchen table.</p>
<p>“Et voilà. Bon appétit.”</p>
<p>Buck, in festive red pajamas, stared suspiciously at the food. “What’d you say this was again?”</p>
<p>“Pain perdu and a griddled link of boudin, cher.”</p>
<p>He gingerly poked the boudin casing with a metal finger. “That means lost something?”</p>
<p>Exasperated, Sam said, “Lost bread. Look, it’s French toast and pork sausage.”</p>
<p>“That’s not all meat.”</p>
<p>“There’s rice in it too, OK? Just eat the damn food. Would I poison you?”</p>
<p>Bucky glowered up at him and Sam caught the twinkle in his eye. “I suppose I’ll survive.”</p>
<p>“Be happy I ain’t feeding you <i>alligator</i> boudin,” Sam retorted.</p>
<p>“Why don’t you cook American?”</p>
<p>“This <i>is</i> American, fool. Louisiana is as American as you can get.”</p>
<p>“Oui, Capitaine Amérique,” Bucky retorted with a half-assed salute, and picked up his fork.</p>
<p>Sam chuckled and went back to the stove to turn a piece of bread on the griddle. “If you wanna enjoy Christmas dinner, you better get with the Lousy-Anna food program,” he warned. “Gonna expand your and Wanda’s culinary horizons. Menu is a deep-fried whole turkey, crawfish etouffée, dirty rice, collard and mustard greens with tasso, and pumpkin cornbread.”</p>
<p>“That does sound potentially delicious,” Bucky admitted. “But a helluva lot of food. Did Scott and them change their minds?”</p>
<p>“No, they’re doing their own WASPy dinner; they’ll come over for dessert. I’m incapable of cooking a holiday meal for less than a dozen, even though it’ll just be the three of us. But leftovers are good. Maybe the Lang-Pym-Van Dyne five will want a snack before the pecan and sweet potato pies. And banana pudding.”</p>
<p>“Banana pudding for Christmas? That sounds strange.”</p>
<p>“Don’t diss my Nilla Wafer nanner pudding, boy,” Sam said sternly, brandishing the spatula. “It’s family tradition.”</p>
<p>“I still don’t understand why you’re not going home,” Buck said, turning serious. “For your first Christmas after the Blip.”</p>
<p>“It’s OK. They’re used to me not being around for holidays. And not just because of the Snap. Air Force deployments, being out of the country as el fugi-tivo, and me blowing them off if I felt like it. They’d also be after me to cook, and more elaborately than here.” Sam placed the last piece of custard-soaked bread into the pan. It gently sizzled. He peeked into the oven to check on the previous batch of browned pain perdu.</p>
<p>“Wouldn’t it be a hoot to show up, though? Not only because you’re not dead anymore. Falcon was cool, but jeez, you’re Captain America. Don’t you want to bask in the glory? Like going to a high school reunion after a killer promotion.”</p>
<p>“I am mos def looking forward to my next high school reunion,” Sam said with relish. “But my family . . . can be difficult.”</p>
<p>“Ah, now we’re getting somewhere. What’s their deal?”</p>
<p>“They’re kind of insular. Most of ‘em have never lived anywhere but Kenner. Baton Rouge is an adventure for these people. They’re proud of me, kinda, but they mostly don’t understand why I left home and did all I’ve done, voluntarily. They’re reflexively suspicious, especially of white folks and foreigners. Not that I blame them much, given some of their history. With everything else going on, I don’t have the energy to deal with introducing two new people. You guys are out of the ordinary, famous and superpowers and all, so they’d be a little freaked out. Making sure everybody gets along would be exhausting.”</p>
<p>“Is that it? Wanda and I can stay here. We could tag along with the Pym group on Christmas Day, or fend for ourselves. We <i>are</i> capable adults, you know,” Bucky reminded him.</p>
<p>“Of course, but I feel strongly that we should be together this holiday. I also intend to stay close by for the next several months except for missions.”</p>
<p>“To show focus and commitment?”</p>
<p>“Yeah. But hanging out with you and Wanda—Scott and Hope too—is more than that.” He turned a slice over with the spatula. “We got fragmented, literally and figuratively. I want to reconstruct the group dynamic.”</p>
<p>“Spending holidays together sounds more personal than a work group.”</p>
<p>“Right. Even without our late friends, we can still be a family. It’s especially important for you and for Wanda, in my humble opinion. You both may have relatives left out there, but they’re not close. Scott has Cassie and Hope, whose parents are also involved, so it’s different for them. But I need to make sure they don’t drift away.”</p>
<p>“How come it’s up to you?”</p>
<p>“I’m the commanding officer. Unit cohesion is my responsibility.”</p>
<p>“Yeah, but . . . This is really good, by the way,” Bucky said, holding up a forkful of sausage.</p>
<p>“I know. Thanks. Try a little pepper-and-garlic sauce on it, even better.”</p>
<p>Buck shook a drop of orange-colored hot sauce from a narrow-necked bottle onto the sausage. He ate the bite with satisfaction. “You’re trying to revive a structure I don’t think was altogether healthy, Sam. Maybe I don’t understand because I wasn’t with you guys.”</p>
<p>“We were looking forward to you being ready to join us. ‘We’ being Cap, Natasha, me, Wanda a lot, Vision when he could,” Sam said. “Scott and Clint were loyal but stuck in the US.”</p>
<p>“Uh-huh. Family. So here’s where we are now: Brother Bucky and Brother Scott have moved back home with Brother Sam and Sister Wanda, whose partner Vision was killed. Brother Scott brought his partner Hope. Uncle Clint retired to the country. Mom died. And Dad abandoned us.”</p>
<p>“That’s a complete mischaracterization, and—”</p>
<p>“Now Big Brother Sam has to fill Dad’s shoes and keep the family together. He’s not feeling totally up to it and he resents Dad for what he did. Have I got that right?”</p>
<p>“No, you don’t get—”</p>
<p>“I smell something burning. You’re about to lose your lost bread.”</p>
<p>Sam opened the oven, releasing more smoke. He grabbed a potholder and brought the cast-iron skillet out, then shuffled the crispy slices onto a plate. He tossed the spatula in frustration and it clattered onto the counter. Coming over to the table with his food, he sat down with a huff and scowled at the overdone eggy bread.</p>
<p>“The ages don’t even work,” Sam argued. “All us ‘brothers’ are older than the ‘mom and dad.’”</p>
<p>“Doesn’t matter. Who had authority, who was considered ‘responsible’? Who are you trying to make into parental figures that shouldn’t be?”</p>
<p>“Damn, son, did you go to psychology school when I wasn’t looking?”</p>
<p>“I can read, you know.” Buck pointed over his shoulder toward the shelf in the living room where Sam kept his books on social work. “Look, wanting us to be as close as family is fine. I appreciate it in my situation and Wanda needs that too. But we shouldn’t try to duplicate a regular family—whaddayacallit, ‘nuclear.’ You don’t have to be Dad and take care of us. Don’t strong-arm Hope into being Mom, either.”</p>
<p>“Uh, no, that would be strange.”</p>
<p>“Yes, it would. And just because Steve and Natasha had a tight relationship, and a protective one with the team, doesn’t mean they had parental obligations either.”</p>
<p>“Not parental, but there were obligations. He left the team, and the whole world, in the lurch.”</p>
<p>Bucky pushed his empty plate to the side. “He did <i>not</i> have an obligation to us or ‘the world’ to devote any more of his life,” he said with heavy emphasis. “You know that. What the hell personal beef do you have about this?”</p>
<p>Sam suddenly stood and pointed his fork at Barnes. “I don’t have to sit here and listen to your amateur—”</p>
<p>“Sam,” Bucky interrupted, quietly but with his peculiar intensity. “We gotta get this out on the table. I thought the memorial service was gonna help but you’re still all tore up the ass about it. Sit.”</p>
<p>Sam glared at him a moment with clenched jaw, then dropped back into his chair.</p>
<p>“Yeah, it <i>is</i> personal,” Sam admitted. “Steve did abandon us, and I ain’t talking about some father figure thing. He said he’d be with you till the end of the line. After what he did to prove that, almost dying over it—and then he went back on his word. I can’t fathom it. I’m more pissed off about what he did to you than what he did to me.”</p>
<p>“Don’t be. I won’t hold him to some vague phrase, any more than I’d expect him to hold me to it after I said it in like 1936. What’s the end of the line? Wherever it needs to be.” Bucky leaned forward. “That man hauled my keister out of a HYDRA base long before you were born. Let me almost kill him to shock me into remembering who I was. Searched for me for years. He literally fought to keep me free and alive—against a government, a king, a comrade. He gave up his shield and went renegade for my sake, and got me the best help he could find. I will not ask more of any friend. He’s not responsible for me forever.”</p>
<p>Sam held up his hands in surrender. “OK, OK.”</p>
<p>“I mean it. Stop being offended on my behalf. I’ve let him go.”</p>
<p>“All right. Fine. You can be all magnanimous about it, but I’m having trouble.” Sam looked down at the table, trying to control his emotions. “I helped him when he sorely needed it and ended up turning my life upside down. I gave him my loyalty. I went to prison for that motherfucker, and so did three other people.”</p>
<p>“And then he busted you out.”</p>
<p>“We were on the run a long time together. Thought I’d found a leader I could believe in, after being disillusioned again and again. So I trusted him. And then he . . . chose that woman over us.”</p>
<p>Bucky’s eyebrows went up and he blinked a few times. “You’re jealous of Peggy Carter? You believe in that ‘bros before hos’ or something?”</p>
<p>“No.” Sam stared into space a moment. “Shit, how do I explain? It’s not her personally I guess, but . . . He chose his past over his future. Over our future. I find it hard to believe he was that stuck on Peggy after so many years apart. I am something of a minor shrink and to me he didn’t act like it. There was the compass thing but that’s all.”</p>
<p>“Yeah, we didn’t talk about her hardly at all after the Blip, and I’m the only one left who’d known her. He was in a worse state than I ever saw before, though. Preoccupied, aloof. Sluggish, like he couldn’t think straight. Kinda despondent, in a cold, sullen way. Wasn’t surprised when he said he was going to make a change—something had to give. But I <i>was</i> surprised when he told me what he was planning.” Bucky shook his head. “The more I think about it, he was escaping from a bad place, not running to a good one.”</p>
<p>“You’re right. There was something else going on.”</p>
<p>“Natasha’s death.”</p>
<p>“Could be. They had an incredibly close relationship, even though it wasn’t romantic. Almost symbiotic. It must’ve felt like he’d lost an arm.” Sam glanced at Buck’s vibranium hand on the table and winced. “Oh. Sorry, man.”</p>
<p>“No problem.”</p>
<p>“Also, the situation probably triggered his PTSD. The rug was pulled out from under him again, his world completely changed. For the third time, or fourth or fifth, depending on what you count. Plus new guilt on top of the old guilt. For sending Nat to Vormir, for not being able to take out Thanos himself, for losing Tony.”</p>
<p>Bucky nodded. “He said he felt bad that it was a ‘VIP with a family’ who ended up dead, instead of him. When Steve didn’t, and I quote, ‘have all that much to look forward to.’”</p>
<p>“Wow, you hadn’t told me that. Harsh. He was pretty fuckin’ depressed. He didn’t say anything like that to me, but then he wouldn’t because he knew I’d be on him about it like gravy on rice.”</p>
<p>“Yeah. I’m the kind of friend who says, ‘You sure that’s what you want to do?’ If the answer is yes, then I say ‘I’ll support you all the way.’ You’re the friend who says, ‘Buddy, what the fuck is wrong with you? Let’s figure out a better way, ya dumbass.’” He looked at Sam questioningly.</p>
<p>Sam smiled crookedly. “Touché.”</p>
<p>“Both kinds are important to have in your life. But there are times when you ain’t gonna confide in friend number two if you don’t want to deal with being challenged.”</p>
<p>Sam reached for the maple syrup pitcher and poured a thin stream onto his toast. “You know, I thought he was letting us see his turmoil. Figured he’d learned that while we were gone. I missed what was really happening.”</p>
<p>“Yep. What we saw looked bad, but it was as together as he could manage. If he’d been really open about it he would’ve been sobbing in a fetal position or something. In his letter to me, he said he’d always be miserable and it’d be bad for me to be around. He took what he figured was his only shot to use the time machine. I guess the past was the one place he thought he could be normal and happy, and forget.”</p>
<p>“I suppose he was right, considering he stayed back there and got married, presumably to Peggy. Probably had children, grandchildren, even great-grandchildren, that he returned to after he left here. You’d think he’d have been more forthcoming, let us know how everything worked out, instead of being all cryptic and taking off right after sticking me with the shield.”</p>
<p>“Man, you really are ambivalent about it, aren’t you?” Bucky said. “You were apprehensive at the time but you accepted with some grace.”</p>
<p>“I was surprised, and what the hell do you say when it happens? ‘Thanks, Cap, but no’? Like I told the council, I <i>am</i> honored. But given what’s happened since, it’s . . . complicated.” Sam cut off a piece of toast and stabbed it with the fork. “Our new rollout plan dropped yesterday and it’s out for comments. Is it gonna help? There’s some good ideas but I don’t see it modifying the brand, or dealing with how my being black affects our PR.”</p>
<p>“How would it address that?”</p>
<p>“Good question. Tackling racist attitudes head on has a mixed track record.” He put the fork down and his elbows on the table, and rested his head in his hands. “Let’s just give up and swap. You may have a shadowy past but at least you’re white. I’ll be the sidekick. People could deal with me being the magical Guardian.”</p>
<p>“Stop saying that,” Bucky ordered. “I’m not ready. Dunno if I’d ever be. The only reason for me to take it on is if something happened to you, God forbid.”</p>
<p>“So you’re sticking me with it too.”</p>
<p>“I am. Calm down, Sam. It’s only five weeks since the initial announcement. You’re asserting yourself, gaining authority and respect. We’ve hit the ground running, doing work that’s not public now but will pay off big. Taking down arms dealers and human traffickers and people trying to build a time machine.”</p>
<p>“The time machine case will never see the light of day.”</p>
<p>“We’ll do other stuff that will. You’re the best man for the job, and Steve fans will come around. The racists will just have to get the fuck over it. A black Captain America is a fine image for young African Americans to see. All young Americans, too. And the world.”</p>
<p>“I’m a bad influence on your language, apparently. Sorry. You didn’t talk this way around Steve.”</p>
<p>“That’s a crock. We were in the goddamn Army. We weren’t Boy Scouts, like I’ve told you before.”</p>
<p>“Terror Scouts,” Sam blurted out, remembering the joke from their underground days.</p>
<p>“What?”</p>
<p>“A name Nat used to call us when—” He broke off and covered his eyes as sudden tears blurred his vision. “Dammit,” he muttered.</p>
<p>Bucky hesitantly put his right hand on Sam’s arm. “Hey. What’s wrong?”</p>
<p>“I miss them,” Sam managed to say.</p>
<p>“Is that what this comes down to?”</p>
<p>“Maybe.” Sam swabbed his eyes with a napkin and tossed it on the table. “I hadn’t had friends like Steve and Natasha since I was a kid. Not in the military. Not even Riley, God rest him. Certainly not in DC after the Air Force. They had my back a hundred percent; they were genuine, kind, funny. I love them better than I do most of my backward-ass family. I can’t even really tell you why. Just something about ‘em.”</p>
<p>“I know what you mean.”</p>
<p>“I met Steve and instantly liked him. Though the prospect of being friends with Captain America weirded me out a little. Then the two of them showed up on my balcony that day and I let them in. That was all she wrote.”</p>
<p>Sam stared at the crumpled napkin. “And yeah, I always say heroes are for kids, but—he was my hero. So was she. When we got back and I found out Natasha was dead, and what happened . . . ”</p>
<p>He finally looked Bucky in the eye. “Then he took off. None of it seems possible. None of it seems right.”</p>
<p>“Reality often stinks, my friend. I should know. You gotta accept it and move on.”</p>
<p>“I’m working on it. They’re gone.” Forlornly, Sam repeated the phrase, as if to persuade himself. “They’re gone.”</p>
<p>“I’m here,” Bucky said.</p>
<p>Sam managed a smile. “You certainly are. Dunno what I’d do without you. Sorry to blubber at you.” Bucky was maybe the toughest SOB Sam had ever met, and he didn’t want to damage their crucial relationship by looking weak.</p>
<p>“Gonna have to turn in my man card,” he joked gruffly.</p>
<p>“Don’t be sorry, and please don’t say any more crap about ‘man cards.’”</p>
<p>Sam was surprised by his vehemence.</p>
<p>“I’ve been taken apart and put back together too many times to have any bullshit attitudes about being macho or whatever,” Bucky said forcefully. “I know what it’s like to not be able to really feel emotions. I never want to be trapped in that frozen hell again. I may still act kind of stoic nowadays, but that’s habit. I have feelings, and I want to be able to express them again. I don’t want anyone else to hold back either. Especially you. I’m trying to learn from you.”</p>
<p>“From me?”</p>
<p>“Why not? You’re a good man I can trust.” A smile flickered briefly across his face. “Steve said so.”</p>
<p>“You couldn’t learn from <i>his</i> example?”</p>
<p>“Not about this kind of thing. I haven’t seen Steve cry since he was a little boy. He couldn’t be what passed for manly when we were coming up—he looked like a wimp and never won fights, and was too good in school. But he was stubborn as hell, and tough as nails. Big boys don’t cry and neither did he. Not even when his mom died. At least, not where anybody could see it.”</p>
<p>“Bruce told me Steve wept in front of him, Thor, Tony, and Clint after Natasha didn’t came back.”</p>
<p>“Really? That right there shows how hard he took it.” Bucky was pensive. “Maybe someday I’ll be able to cry too. I hope nobody has to die to make it happen, though.” He looked inscrutably at Sam.</p>
<p>“I’ma do my best to have nobody die on my watch,” Sam assured him. “Including me. I’m here with you.”</p>
<p>“To the end of the line?” Barnes asked.</p>
<p>Sam sat up straight. “Yeah, to the end of the line. Wherever that is for us.”</p>
<p>Bucky nodded, then gave a big sigh. “Sam?”</p>
<p>“Yes, Buck?”</p>
<p>He pointed at the blackened toast. “You gonna eat that?”</p>
<p>Sam laughed and slid the plate over in front of his friend.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0054"><h2>54. An Intricate Game?</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Natasha, Steve, Shuri, and M’Gaji wind up their discussion of transdimensional energy and supersoldier programs by looking at the larger implications and possibilities. They kind of blow their own minds.</p>
<p>Rating: Teen and Up<br/>Content notes: none</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hi everybody! Notice hereby given that my noodling here and in future chapters is not necessarily going to conform to MCU canon regarding Infinity Stones, “the Multiverse,” dimensions, timelines, and parallel and pocket universes. While I’m interested in referencing a semi-plausible cosmology for this fic, I’m not willing to become a student of the MCU cosmology in any thorough way. It’s waaaay too complicated, and only semi-cohesive. Real physics and cosmological concepts and terminology have been distorted and used in various ways by numerous works of speculative fiction. Even within one “verse” various writers may play fast and loose with the terms and how things “work.” I guess I’ll be one of them! </p>
<p>As anyone following this story knows, I’m much more interested in the human element than the superhuman or transhuman, but I find it necessary to delve at least a little into the metaphysics of this verse given the importance of fate, chance, and identity within it. </p>
<p>Thanks for reading!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>At Wakandan Design Group headquarters, the two scientists and two visitors continued their intense conversation over tea. The implications of the strange “energy” found in the new scans, and the correlated theoretical foundations of Project Rebirth, were mind-boggling.</p>
<p>“No matter how it was accomplished, Dr. Erskine’s mechanism precisely constructed stable, complex, viable matter in seconds from what appeared to be nothing,” Shuri said, regaining her customary enthusiasm. “If we free ourselves from the assumption that the mechanism can only work through the human body, think of the benefits! One could create food, water, fuel, limitless products of chemistry—using no energy or matter from Earth.”</p>
<p>“Would it not be simpler to bring in pure energy? We could stop using combustible materials or resorting to fission,” M’Gaji said, awestruck at the potential.</p>
<p>“Free and abundant, without pollution, without depletion,” Shuri declared.</p>
<p>“Hold up there, ladies. We don’t know whether his mechanism is able to create or move portals outside the body at all. And even if it can, there’s no such thing as a free lunch,” Natasha cautioned.</p>
<p>“I don’t like the sound of it,” Steve said resolutely. “If what you propose is workable, good thing no one ever found Erskine’s notes.”</p>
<p>“Why?” exclaimed Shuri. “It would be gift to humanity. Far beyond even our vibranium-based technologies.”</p>
<p>“Unlimited free energy, and the building blocks of matter, flowing from ‘elsewhere.’ That sounds ominous to me, frankly. Humankind isn’t ready for it,” Steve insisted. “You are, Princess, but as a species we don’t have the ethical development. Consider Schmidt, and HYDRA later—examples of the tyrants and madmen who’d stop at nothing to get hold of this mechanism to misuse it. Not to mention the off-worlders that would take an interest. Look at the mess caused by the competition to control the Tesseract, which could do something similar.”</p>
<p>“Hell, there may have been a silver lining to the poor doc getting shot,” Natasha said wearily. “Maybe Kruger was a time traveler who came to save our timeline from the consequences of Erskine’s discovery.”</p>
<p>The others stared at her as a peculiar silence spread into the room.</p>
<p>“Do you really believe that?” Shuri asked Natasha quietly.</p>
<p>“I . . . I don’t know where that came from. I just blurted it out,” she said, amazed.</p>
<p>Steve shivered. “That sent a chill up my spine. I can’t see Kruger as a time traveler, though. He was a HYDRA true believer, to the end.”</p>
<p>“I agree. But you are onto something, Kat,” said Shuri. “There are great, mysterious powers and phenomena afoot. We recently saw their efficacy proven by the feats of Dr. Strange, Wong, and others of their group. Some powers move minds as well as matter. Perhaps the assassin or his superiors were influenced by a mighty magician or alien intelligence behind the scenes,” she speculated.</p>
<p>“That is more bizarre than the potential of TDE technology,” said M’Gaji.</p>
<p>Natasha and Steve shared a glance. “Not to us,” Nat said. “Steve and I have discussed the ridiculous odds surrounding the Infinity Stones. The war with Thanos, and the path to get there, was littered with absurd coincidences and lucky breaks. As though deep influences were at work.”</p>
<p>“Thor talked with Tony and me a long time ago about this,” Steve remembered. “He drew attention to the fact that the Mind Stone was the fourth Infinity Stone to show up on Earth within a few years. He insisted it wasn’t a coincidence, couldn’t be. I thought that was outlandish, but now . . .”</p>
<p>“Yeah, you told me what he said: ‘Someone has been playing an intricate game and has made pawns of us,’” Nat added. “Makes me recall other ‘magical’ and alien incidents. Weird accidents, like Carol Danvers and Peter Parker experienced. Thor showing up when his dad kicked him out, and what happened with those who followed him. Strucker’s Scepter experiments. Plus bleeding-edge tech like the serum-based enhancement programs, and work by people such as Pym and the Starks. Were all these evidence of cause, or effect? Maybe we <i>are</i> pawns of someone’s outside influence. Or, as Earthlings dabbled more and more in the intersections of science and magic, we may have attracted someone’s notice.”</p>
<p>“If we accept this ‘intricate game’ assertion as true, could the ‘someone’ have been the stones themselves?” asked Shuri. “They are widely believed to have been sentient, even sapient. Might they toy with us, or contend with one other?”</p>
<p>“How could limited, short-lived beings such as ourselves understand the motives of Infinity Stones, if they had them?” M’Gaji wondered.</p>
<p>“I don’t know. But I can personally confirm consciousness, and willpower, for at least one of them,” Steve said quietly. “I . . . talked with the Soul Stone, for lack of a better term. Direct communication that was effective but had destructive consequences.”</p>
<p>Shuri and M’Gaji stared at him. He’d not gotten around to debriefing with Shuri on the details of what had happened on Vormir. He preferred to avoid the subject and he’d found many more pleasant things to do.</p>
<p>“Was this communication before or after you were burned by the stone?” M’Gaji asked.</p>
<p>“During. I may have held it as long as a couple of minutes. It was a painful and overwhelming experience, so it’s hard to remember exactly.”</p>
<p>“Wait. You reported when you brought Natasha home that your grave injury was from touching the stone. I assumed it was a result of brief contact,” Shuri said, confused.</p>
<p>“I had it inside my fist. Like this,” he said, holding out his left hand and closing it.</p>
<p>“You held it like that for more than a second?” Shuri asked incredulously. “To have survived, you must have used radiation shielding. What kind?”</p>
<p>“None. But touching the stone can’t be that dangerous. Clint balanced it in his hand before he left the planet—I saw him.”</p>
<p>“He was wearing tactical gloves and suit, was he not?” M’Gaji asked.</p>
<p>“Yeah.”</p>
<p>“Those would protect him,” she asserted.</p>
<p>“The stone would have restrained its power to allow the one who had ‘bargained’ with it to retrieve it,” Shuri added.</p>
<p>“How do you know that?” asked Natasha.</p>
<p>Even though they were in a highly secure area, Shuri lowered her voice. “The Wakandan government gathered information over several decades about the Infinity Stones, and the encasements that held or hid them, such as the Tesseract, the Eye of Agamotto, and the Scepter. They were tracked at the command of my father, of blessed memory. These objects were mysteries, at first thought to be mere legends. But our leaders, political and spiritual, decided they should be investigated as potential threats. I reviewed this documentation when we were preparing to deal with the Mind Stone. Even in the esoteric sources, the Soul Stone is the least understood of the six. But it shared many properties with its counterparts.”</p>
<p>She looked at Steve keenly. “Long tradition holds that a human being cannot handle an Infinity Stone unguarded and live, and you knew of their power. How did you imagine you could get away with it?”</p>
<p>“Grabbing it barehanded was an accident, not hubris. I guess it was being nice to me. Relatively speaking.”</p>
<p>“The Soul Stone may not have eradicated biospheres like some stones could, but it was not ‘nice,’” said Shuri. “Evidenced by its cruel insistence upon trading in lives.”</p>
<p>“Uh, can we not talk about that?” Steve glanced briefly toward Natasha before looking back at Shuri.</p>
<p>“I’m all right,” Nat said, squeezing the hand the stone had almost destroyed. “You and I are here and you put the damned stone back in its pond on Vormir. We’re good.”</p>
<p>Steve’s answering smile was weak.</p>
<p>“This introduces a variable into the mystery of your TDE quotient,” Shuri said, a bit grumpily. “In addition to undergoing the serum and the chamber, you experienced direct contact with an Infinity Stone. It may certainly be another gateway for TDE. With our limited knowledge and measurement capacity, we cannot tell how much was facilitated by each of these sources.”</p>
<p>“Or how much may be naturally occurring,” M’Gaji suggested. “Princess, you link the king’s powerful presence to this energy and assume it results from the Herb. But did he have that attribute before? Did the potion confer increased TDE or is the state natural to him?”</p>
<p>“You are right, Doctor. Subjectively I believe his presence was heightened after the Herb, but without baseline data these factors confound.” She shook her head and her grin reappeared. “Ay, this puzzle becomes more elaborate. So much for my dream of a tidy, elegant theory!” she said with a chuckle.</p>
<p>Natasha looked sideways at Steve. She could almost hear that he had something on his mind. “Penny for your thoughts,” she said.</p>
<p>Steve started, somewhat guiltily. He sighed. “Kinda hate to mention it, but there’s another possible factor: Mjolnir.”</p>
<p>“Oh my,” said Shuri, her eyes widening.</p>
<p>“You believe it was more than a powerful weapon?” M’Gaji asked.</p>
<p>“Yes. Beyond its properties when thrown or spun and how it can be summoned, its ‘lightning’ capacity was spooky. Who knows what that energy is or where it comes from? Thor chalks it up to something between magic and tech, no need to study it.”</p>
<p>Natasha nodded. “Stuff like that is just normal to him.”</p>
<p>“It’s not only what the hammer could do,” continued Steve. “When you use it, <i>you</i> can do more. Thor can generate the lightning within his own body and channel it through his special weapons. For me, I found I could hit harder, move faster, be more resilient. When I had Mjolnir, I could make progress against Thanos. When I didn’t have it, he beat the hell out of me. Not sure how he didn’t kill me.”</p>
<p>“You told me how he damaged your shield in that fight, but he hit you besides that?” Natasha asked. Steve had disclosed few details to her about the Battle of Earth. He seemed to want to forget it as much as he could.</p>
<p>“Yeah, many times. Whacked me, threw me, cut me. Worse when I didn’t have the hammer, but even sometimes when I did.”</p>
<p>“He was one of the strongest individuals in this universe. You’re pretty tough, but he put Thor, Iron Man—even the Hulk—down for the count. You should totally be dead. It must—wait.” Natasha’s eyes narrowed as she thought. “Remember the Battle of Wakanda, against Thanos in the woods . . .”</p>
<p>“I wish I didn’t. I’ve replayed that thousands of times in my head.”</p>
<p>“Not my favorite topic either, but there’s got to be a reason you’re alive after taking multiple strikes from a Titan. In Wakanda, Thanos blasted Bucky and hit T’Challa hard. Both were knocked out for several minutes, until just before the Snap. Thanos hit you, and you got back up fairly quickly.”</p>
<p>“The first time he threw me with that purple-colored energy from a stone. Felt like an electric shock. I didn’t shake it off for maybe a minute and a half,” Steve clarified.</p>
<p>Shuri looked at him in disbelief.</p>
<p>“Bucky and Okoye took a similar zap,” said Nat. “After that, I was frantically trying to dig out of the rock prison thing he cast around me and I heard you screaming,” said Nat. “Boy, did that suck. You said later you’d grabbed hold of the gauntlet at that point.”</p>
<p>“You had the Infinity Gauntlet?” Shuri gasped. “I have not heard this tale.”</p>
<p>“I never gained control of it—my goal was to pull it off, but no go,” Steve explained. “Once I seized it, all I could do was hang on, delay him from going after Vision and Wanda. Painful, but it didn’t burn me. I was lucky, seeing as how I only had half gloves on.”</p>
<p>“Your bare fingertips touched the gauntlet with five stones installed?” the princess said, agape.</p>
<p>“Yeah, but no big deal,” Steve said dismissively. “At the Battle of Earth the nanogauntlet had all six stones and it got passed around like a damn football. At least four people carried it. Including Clint, with no enhancements.”</p>
<p>“They were all wearing full gloves and tactical suits, were they not?” asked M’Gaji.</p>
<p>“Yeah.”</p>
<p>“When a gauntlet containing the stones is being worn, it is engaged and exponentially more powerful,” Shuri insisted. “But tell me this: When the Titan wielded the gauntlet in Wakanda, why did he not attack you a second time using a stone’s power? He could have vaporized you.”</p>
<p>“I had a good enough grip on it to stop him from clenching his fist. For some reason the stones worked only when he could do that. It was hard, but I managed it for a short time.”</p>
<p>“Is that why you were yelling your head off?” Natasha asked curiously.</p>
<p>“That was for a lot of reasons. When you’re trying to do something physically intense it can help to shout. Plus the gauntlet did hurt like hell. And I was, you know, angry. Anyhow, he seemed confused for several seconds, then he bashed me with his other hand. I couldn’t turn loose of the thing long enough to parry the blow. Didn’t recover for at least two minutes.”</p>
<p>Shuri looked at Steve with the same expression as when she viewed his mystifying TDE scan. “None of that should have been possible, according to the lore. How did you find the strength to restrain a Titan’s fist? And the Infinity Gauntlet itself had power. It harnessed the stones to the wielder’s will. Touching it while Thanos had it on should have killed any human being.”</p>
<p>“I guess other stones like Steve too. Look, we’re getting away from my point,” said Natasha. “He did this crazy stuff against Thanos before he could have gotten any juice from Mjolnir or the Soul Stone, and we don’t know why he was able to use those anyway. Maybe there’s something we haven’t considered with this TDE business. These incidents imply a different quality to his enhancements compared to others, beyond the growth and stability.”</p>
<p>M’Gaji said thoughtfully, “Perhaps there are different types of TDE that we cannot distinguish with these crude scans.”</p>
<p>“I’ve been wondering about the colors,” Steve remarked.</p>
<p>“What do you mean?” M’Gaji responded. “All the spheres are white, though the brightness changes somewhat.”</p>
<p>“The ones in people’s chests all looked slightly golden to me. The head ones are faintly bluish. There are subtle differences between individual scans, too.”</p>
<p>M’Gaji and Shuri looked at him with complete puzzlement.</p>
<p>Natasha smiled. “Don’t forget, he sees more than normal people. Not only sharper and further, but additional colors.”</p>
<p>“Oh, I . . . see. We have not yet run a spectral analysis on the scans, but we shall immediately do so,” Shuri said.</p>
<p>“In the future, you might want to evaluate the sound of the scanner, too,” Natasha suggested. “If Steve can hear the noise, however faint, you could record it. What if the resonances are different between people? Could yield more clues.”</p>
<p>M’Gaji smiled widely, a rarity for the reserved physician. “An excellent idea! You two are earning your pay as Design Group consultants.”</p>
<p>The three of them laughed, but the princess didn’t join in. She stared into space as though at a hologram, concentrating on what she saw in her mind’s eye. The cheerful young woman again seemed to have been replaced by someone who reasoned and visualized so intricately that one could almost hear the metaphorical wheels whirring. Someone like Wanda might well be able to see her brilliant thoughts like a holocall.</p>
<p>Suddenly Shuri’s eyes focused. “These are all excellent points. It may be that various methods of ‘portal upgrade’ transfer different qualities of energy. Each with a particular set of effects, though they overlap. I made an unwarranted assumption, based on my knowledge of my brother and Steve, that the TDE is a single phenomenon, and having more of it is inherently positive. But who knows? This is all terribly complicated.”</p>
<p>“No doubt there is significant interplay between what is naturally occurring and what is artificially induced,” M’Gaji asserted. “In the field of medicine, the underlying state of the patient—physical, mental, emotional, spiritual—is important to the efficacy of treatment. It is likely to be equally so with treatments that are for enhancement, not healing.”</p>
<p>The four of them sat silent, dazed by the tangle of concepts and implications before them. To lighten the mood, Steve said jokingly, “I really miss the days when the weirdest thing science ever created was me.” The repetition of his old observation provoked a smirk from Nat.</p>
<p>“Now I seem relatively simple,” he added.</p>
<p>“No, Mr. Holden,” Shuri admonished playfully. “We are discovering that you are a far stranger and more complex being than anyone thought. And we do not know how much to attribute to science and how much to nature.”</p>
<p>Steve winked at Natasha. “How much is me, and how much came out of a bottle?”</p>
<p>“It’s all you now, baby,” Nat answered breezily.</p>
<p>He turned to Shuri with a sheepish look. “Sorry to complicate your investigation.”</p>
<p>The princess laughed, sounding like her usual self again. “I am fascinated by this challenge. It is also rather pleasant because there is no pressure—no dire circumstance, no injury to cure. I have joked that at WDG, I have been presented with multiple ‘broken white boys’ to fix. You are my white boy I don’t have to fix because you are not broken.”</p>
<p>“I was operating at a low level before Erskine got hold of me,” Steve noted. “He fixed me up. The physiology has been humming along well, but the body isn’t the only thing to consider when you’re diagnosing what’s broken.” His half-smile had faded.</p>
<p>Natasha wondered whether the Wakandans knew of his PTSD of long standing or would guess at the new burdens of trauma and guilt from the past several years.</p>
<p>The princess-scientist looked at him with an enigmatic expression. “I do not think you ever truly were ‘broken,’ Steve. Neither before your procedures nor after.”</p>
<p>“What do you mean?”</p>
<p>“You were chosen for the experiment not because of your limitations per se but because of something special you offered,” Shuri declared. “I have read the particulars of Project Rebirth and its aftermath. Tell me: Why did Dr. Erskine, in his last act on Earth, point to your chest?”</p>
<p>“He was reminding me to remain a good-hearted person. The night before, he asked me to promise him I would,” Steve said.</p>
<p>“Or maybe he meant something else,” Shuri said solemnly.</p>
<p>The other three stared at her.</p>
<p>“I’m not going to ask you to explain that statement,” Natasha said slowly. “I think my brain’s about to explode already.”</p>
<p>“Mine too. This has become incredibly convoluted,” Steve said, reflexively scratching his head.</p>
<p>Shuri nodded. “I believe we have come to the end of our brainstorming session. I love such discussions, and even I am at the end of my tether.”</p>
<p>“It is time to let this rest in our subconscious minds,” M’Gaji advised. “We may find that a new idea or answer will arise soon.”</p>
<p>“Science proceeds in painstaking increments and through serendipitous accidents,” Shuri said with a smile. “I believe today’s collision of information and minds was one of those happy accidents. M’Gaji and I will proceed with our investigation. While we all open ourselves to spontaneous creative solutions.”</p>
<p>“I’m glad you find our contributions helpful,” Natasha said. “I’m no scientist, so kinda feel out of my league.”</p>
<p>Steve nodded. “What she said. It makes me wonder about asking his highness what he thinks of all this,” he suggested tentatively.</p>
<p>“A good idea,” Shuri said. “Like you two, my brother is overly modest about his ability to contribute to WDG.”</p>
<p>“This investigation is important for Wakanda, I believe,” M’Gaji said earnestly. “Though I do not know precisely why.”</p>
<p>Shuri took Steve’s hand, and M’Gaji’s on her other side. Without prompting, M’Gaji and Steve reached for Natasha’s hands.</p>
<p>“Not just for Wakanda. We shall meet together to discuss this again,” Shuri promised.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0055"><h2>55. Strange Brew</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Rating: Teen and Up<br/>Content notes: none</p><p>Wanda and Dr. Strange meet, somewhat warily at first, but soon discover that they’ve both noticed subtle disturbances in the non-ordinary realms.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Noting again for anyone jumping in here: my attempts to be faithful to MCU canon end with Endgame, so how I treat Wanda and Strange (and everyone) has nothing to do with WandaVision, Strange II, et cetera. Very much including no SWORD involvement, Scarlet Witch chaos magic, all that stuff.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Wanda Maximoff sat crosslegged on her bed staring at her phone. She’d dialed Dr. Strange, but she almost reached out to cancel the call. It was December 22nd and a Friday, the last reasonable time to contact him about business before the holidays. She wasn’t sure he wanted to talk to any Avengers, though; he’d blown off the memorial service, so he might be ambivalent about his association.</p><p>After eight rings, the call dropped with a click. No message, no way to leave voicemail. She sighed. Maybe he’d call back, if he bothered to look up the number to find out whose it was. Maybe she should text as a followup. Or maybe this was serendipitous—it wasn’t the right time to approach him.</p><p>Wanda scooped up the phone and left the room. Her townhouse was a two-bedroom, the smallest type in the dated condo complex the Foundation had purchased. Even though the apartment still seemed big and empty—she’d lost almost everything she owned in the destruction of the old HQ—she’d asked to live by herself. Sam had successfully persuaded the rest of the leadership to allow her the space.</p><p>Because she hadn’t yet left the house today, she still wore loungewear (yoga pants and a pink T-shirt) as she clumped down the stairs, hair loose. She’d long ago stopped doing stunts like using scarlet energy to float her around the house or do the dishes, even though such behavior was not prohibited by the protocols she’d agreed to with the Avengers. Those only governed her invasive mental abilities and her psionic energy of a high level—specifically a level that could kill, maim, or cause major destruction. Still, she reserved her powers for “serious” activities virtually all the time, with the occasional bit of fun excepted. And vacuuming. Wanda hated walking around behind a noisy vacuum cleaner.</p><p>In the kitchen, she opened the refrigerator and stared into it. It was lunchtime; she should probably eat something, she thought. She’d lost weight since the Return. Wanda was the sort of person who overate when she was somewhat stressed and completely lost her appetite if she was extremely upset. Today she was willing and able, but nothing appealed. She stared into the refrigerator so long that a little ball of energy formed on the top shelf merely from her concentration. She blinked and shook her head; it disappeared.</p><p>Closing the fridge, Wanda wandered back into the living room, lost in thought. Sometimes she wondered what would happen if she didn’t have protocols to follow, ops to execute. If she left the Avengers and did whatever she wanted. Besides Vision, Natasha and Steve had been the chief influences on her commitment to disciplining and channeling her powers, and using them only for “appropriate” reasons. Now all three were gone forever. Why shouldn’t she strike out on her own? It would surely be more comfortable to be away from everyone who knew her and Vision; seeing those friends triggered memories of him. She could easily disguise herself, and she wouldn’t need to find employment like a regular person, because she could build or take anything she needed and evade any consequences. It would be liberating to escape out into the wide world.</p><p>Suddenly, Wanda heard voices. She was startled for a moment that telepathy had kicked in without her willing it. Then she realized she was hearing the voices normally, coming through the wall from the next-door apartment of Sam and Bucky. Shouting was followed by cheering and laughter. Sounded like they were watching some sport. She was irritated by the noise for about three seconds, then smiled. It was heartwarming to know they were home and having fun.</p><p>And it was a reminder of why, in the end, she wouldn’t leave. She regarded Sam as family, and Bucky was beginning to feel like a brother as well. The duo was committed to the mission of the group and inspired her to hang on, too. All four of her teammates were good people, as were the other TAO staff she’d met. The advisors too, especially Clint. Walking away from them would be freeing, but isolating. Probably not in her best interest, nor in the interest of the rest of the world. The Avengers kept her mentally stabilized and provided someone to watch over her—in a good way.</p><p>She felt a new presence surface nearby. Were Sam and Buck having someone over? The question was answered when her doorbell rang. The complex was guarded 24/7 and she wasn’t expecting anyone. Warily she looked through the old-fashioned peephole in the door.</p><p>In the distorted wide-angle lens, Wanda saw Stephen Strange on the stoop. His sagging posture indicated he was tired, and he was dressed more casually than she’d ever seen him, in a collared shirt, dark green sweater, and black jeans.</p><p>Was this some sort of weird coincidence? She opened the door and said hello.</p><p>“You rang?” Strange said with a crooked smile.</p><p>“Uh, yeah, I did. Were you already on your way up here or something?”</p><p>“No. I was at home when I saw your name and number come up, but I didn’t want to talk on the phone. I decided to pop over.”</p><p>“Oh. Right. Portals.”</p><p>“Convenient.”</p><p>“Come on in. I’m not too presentable at the moment; you’ll have to forgive me.”</p><p>“I know this is a surprise, and I’m not spiffed-up myself.”</p><p>As he crossed the threshold, she said, “Please have a seat, make yourself comfortable. I’ll put some tea on.”</p><p>“Thanks. I hope I’m not intruding.”</p><p>“It’s fine. I’m glad you came . . . Up? Over? Through? Thank <i>you</i> for not just portaling into the apartment. Wait, is that an English verb?”</p><p>“I don’t think so, but it should be. Let’s declare it one. And you’re welcome. There’s definitely a certain etiquette to be followed when one can appear virtually anywhere.”</p><p>“Or walk through walls,” Wanda said, filling a kettle at the sink.</p><p>Settling into a chair, Strange asked, “Why were you wanting to talk to me?”</p><p>This guy gets straight to the point, Wanda thought. Sokovians were like that, but she’d lived around Americans long enough that directness was now less familiar.</p><p>“You don’t know?”</p><p>“I’m a sorcerer, not a psychic. Telepathy is your department.”</p><p>“Ah, I see. Well, I wanted to discuss this mentoring program that Capt. Wilson has come up with. I thought it might be helpful to us both if we . . . exchanged information, at least. Maybe some sort of training if that seemed useful.”</p><p>“Our skills are very different,” Strange noted.</p><p>“Yes, but there’s more overlap than with the other Avengers and advisors, don’t you think? The rest of the current and former members all have some sort of physical enhancement, extreme skill, special technology. You and I tap into energies external to ourselves. And people think we’re pretty darn spooky.” She held up a basket of assorted teabags. “What kind of tea do you want? I have Ceylon black, roasted green, ginger, peach chamomile . . .”</p><p>Strange looked puzzled. “You could have any kind you can imagine by just making it appear, right? I find it hard to believe you’re actually going through the motions.”</p><p>“I can give you an illusion of tea, and I can move things around and heat them. I could sit across the room and do what I’m doing now, but I can’t create stuff from nothing.”</p><p>The magician raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure?”</p><p>“All I can say is that I haven’t done it and wouldn’t know how.”</p><p>“I’m certain the Scarlet Witch can conjure a cup of tea.”</p><p>Wanda put the basket down and frowned at him. “I’m surprised, Dr. Strange. You agreed in the meeting that we should be called by our actual names, and you heard me specifically say I don’t want to be known as a witch.”</p><p>He bowed his head, but he didn’t look remorseful. “Sorry. I do think you have aspects to your powers you haven’t tapped, though. And it’s baffling that you’re not using even what you understand.”</p><p>“It’s a good practice to live normally and do tasks like a regular person—at least most of the time. Keeps me grounded.”</p><p>“You didn’t come up with that yourself, did you? Who imposed it on you?”</p><p>“I didn’t come up with it, but no, no one ‘imposed’ it on me,” Wanda answered, annoyed. “After Steve and Natasha invited me to join the Avengers long term, we talked a lot about proper use of skills and abilities. And about ways to keep myself sane and, yes, grounded. I’m a human being, with some differences, and I don’t want to forget that or become something else.”</p><p>Strange smiled. “Well, that was an interesting exercise.”</p><p>“What do you mean, exercise?”</p><p>“I was being an asshole on purpose. Wanted to see whether you would take me at face value or discern my real attitude.”</p><p>“I don’t pry into people’s minds unless there’s a really good reason,” said Wanda, still annoyed. “Except in emergencies, I’m supposed to have someone in TAO leadership sign off on it. At the end of the day, the agreement protects me as well as other people, so I’m happy to abide by it. What’s all this about? And will you tell me what your ‘real attitude’ is instead of playing a game?”</p><p>“I understand why you’re upset. I prefer to gain information via testing and experimentation when possible. I find results speak louder and more accurately than words. My real attitude is that I’m in awe of your powers, but more intrigued by your self-awareness and control. Your discipline, and your humanity, are remarkable given your age, the circumstances you’ve been subjected to, and the grief you’re dealing with.”</p><p>Strange looked genuinely contrite now. “I’m sorry for poking at you. Looks like I certainly can learn something from you, on a human level. The question is, what could you learn from me?”</p><p>“I see what you were trying to do. But I think we should treat each other like colleagues, or friends. Not adversaries,” Wanda said sternly. “As for what I could learn from you . . . You’re the only person I have access to who has any grasp of magic and metaphysics. The scientists don’t even want to think about me so I guess I’m in your camp by default.”</p><p>“I’d be privileged to work with you. And I’ll take the green tea, by the way.”</p><p>Wanda nodded and reached for a mug.</p><p>“I’ll caution you that to be initiated into the Masters of the Mystic Arts takes a serious commitment of time, probably incompatible with full-time work with the Avengers,” Strange continued. “The other masters would also have to accept you. It’s not like we look at your SAT scores and how well you wrote an essay. The decision is both esoteric and subjective.”</p><p>“Wow,” she said, wide-eyed. “I’m honored to even be considered for your order, but I don’t think I want to get into that level, at least not now.”</p><p>“I’m glad you feel that way, actually. In your current state of mourning you shouldn’t be committing to anything.”</p><p>“People are treating me with kid gloves mostly, and I’m of two minds about it. I’ve thought about asking Sam to include me in an operation, give me something to take my attention off my grief. But he’s right; I might feel ready, and I want to contribute, but I’m not really on an even enough keel. Better for me to just be backup for emergencies.” Wanda cocked her head and looked at Strange keenly. “I promise I’m not getting into your mind, but your expression and body language, and general air if that’s a thing, indicate you’re not feeling so great yourself.”</p><p>“Yeah, you don’t have to be a mind reader to see that,” Strange acknowledged. “I’m still very tired, mentally and emotionally, and it’s dragging me down physically. Not unexpected, but it’s a struggle and it’s taking longer to recover than I estimated.”</p><p>“From your actions during the battle?”</p><p>“Yes. And from the fight with Thanos on Titan. That took place years ago, but only a few months ago in my memory—and, it seems in my reconstituted body’s memory. Before that fight started, I put myself into a time loop to view possible scenarios of how the war would play out. It didn’t take long in apparent time, but experiencing more than fourteen million iterations is exhausting. Especially since all of them ended in massive tragedy. Even the one that was the least bad, the one that finally happened in our timeline.”</p><p>“That does sound rough. I’d found out the general story through the grapevine but hearing you tell it is different. Thank you for your service.”</p><p>“You’re welcome, and ditto for you. Without you we wouldn’t have been able to prevail. We all deserve a vacation, I think.”</p><p>She poured boiling water from the kettle into their mugs. “When we’re both feeling up to it, should we discuss how we structure this mentorship thing?”</p><p>“Yes. We shouldn’t wait for weeks or months to talk, though. It’d be good to check in occasionally, get to know one another more casually before diving into serious business.”</p><p>“That would be nice. Just, no poking, OK?” Wanda said as she carried the mugs into the living room and handed him one.</p><p>Strange smiled faintly. “I promise.”</p><p>She sat down and said, “I do have a question about business, though, before we go casual. Did you attend the memorial service?”</p><p>“I couldn’t face a whole crowd of people that I don’t know all that well, plus that much grief in one room. Not right now. I chickened out.” He looked at her quizzically. “That’s an odd question. You had to know I wasn’t there.”</p><p>“I meant ‘there’ in a non-ordinary way. I perceived some anomalies, almost like shimmers in the air, though it wasn’t the air, you know? Couldn’t focus on them. I thought maybe you were having a peek somehow without having to attend.”</p><p>“Wasn’t me. But that’s very interesting. Now I wish I’d gone,” Strange lamented. “I said I’m not psychic, but sometimes the hair stands up on the back of my neck and that sort of thing. Once a reaction like that alerts me, I have techniques and objects I can employ to extend my perceptions.”</p><p>“Besides the shimmers, several times I got a ‘something’s going on’ creepy feeling. I’ve noticed it at least once a day since. I don’t know whether it’s genuinely increasing, or whether I’ve calmed down enough from everything that’s happened so I can notice what’s been there all along,” Wanda said.</p><p>“I’ve had some frissons as well, but as you say they’re hard to focus on. The feelings are so random, untied to any content or even subtle clues, that I admit I haven’t given them credence. Others within my order are keeping tabs on the metaphysical realms so I can take time off. But if anything significant had surfaced they’d notify me.”</p><p>“A way I often find things out are visions, but I haven’t had any. Except for a few little snippets I picked up from Okoye at the service, totally without trying. Those just seemed to be memories that were coming in strong for her right then.”</p><p>“Well. That’s interesting,” Strange said, putting down his mug and sitting up straight.</p><p>“What is?”</p><p>“I got one of those prickly feelings. What were the memories of hers that you saw?”</p><p>“She’d been explaining to me what they had done with Vision’s body—they’re keeping it safe, intact, and in a dignified place, thankfully,” Wanda said quietly. “So I saw some memories about that, which mostly included Steve and Nat, and then there were other images of them in Wakanda.”</p><p>“Easily explainable, generated by the emotion of both of you having spoken at theirmemorial,” Strange surmised. “Still, I’ll ask my colleagues to be on notice for anomalies that might show whether any of these things are connected.”</p><p>“I’ve found that if I think about it too much, try to concentrate, the feeling dissipates. Like maybe it’s not ripe yet. That sounds funny, but do you get what I mean?”</p><p>“Certainly. There are times when you can only see something out of the corner of your eye; it disappears if you look right at it. But at some point, the phenomenon is ready to be fully seen. Either in the normal sense of sight, or the extraordinary,” he explained.</p><p>“Maybe we shouldn’t strain ourselves. Continue to rest and recuperate. But if you perceive any more information, please share it. I’ll do the same. Feel free to text me,” Wanda said earnestly.</p><p>“All right. We’ll keep in touch about this,” Strange affirmed. “I have to say, though, it seems bizarre for the two of us to be using mundane technology to communicate.”</p><p>“Not to me. Technology has its place. For me it doesn’t require nearly the energy or emotional involvement that psi powers do. Don’t worry, if I ever need to get more dramatic about reaching you, I can certainly do that,” Wanda assured him.</p><p>“I have no doubt. Fine, we’ll keep contact on the up and up, as it were. Though next time we have tea, I wouldn’t want you to have to drive all the way down to the city.”</p><p>She grinned. “Definitely not. Magic has its place too.”</p><p>“It does. A toast to you, Avenger Maximoff.”</p><p>“And to you, Dr. Strange.”</p><p>They lifted their mugs toward each other in salute, and smiled knowingly.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Those of you waiting for some sweetness and fluff - next chapter!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0056"><h2>56. Home for Christmas</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Rating: Teen and Up<br/>Content notes: expressions of grief, joke about Alcoholics Anonymous, sexual situations</p>
<p>Natasha and Steve spend a bittersweet Christmas in Wakanda, the first time they’ve been away from their old friends at the holidays in many years. Nat discovers how dependent she’s become on him, and they make a decision about the terms of their relationship.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Note about this story’s timeline: I’ve used a lot of what I’ve gathered from various “MCU timelines” but they don’t all agree and sometimes don’t make sense to me, so there are some dates that you may find differ from other sources. </p>
<p>One of these is the date of Tony’s funeral; I’ve seen multiple sources that put it one to three days after the Battle of Earth. I think that’s silly considering what would be going on in the wake of it—massive destruction, casualties, radiation, alien contamination, the world's population doubles . . . and everybody takes off to the woods for a calm little funeral? </p>
<p>So FYI, here are my choices for kicking off this story's timeline: Battle of Earth 10/9/23; Funeral 10/21; Steve leaves, does all his things including returning Nat to Wakanda and going off to 1949, 11/3; Natasha wakes up 11/5; Steve returns to Wakanda 11/10. </p>
<p>Thanks for following along!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It was Christmas evening in a country that didn’t celebrate Christmas, but Natasha and Steve looked back on a meaningful day. They’d taken the 25th and 26th off from work and lessons. An early dinner centered on a roast ham glazed with tangerine and studded with cloves, thanks to the ever-thoughtful Chef Gana.</p>
<p>By agreement, they’d given each other only one gift apiece. Steve had painted and framed a watercolor of Adongo Falls from a photo he’d gotten from Dambu. Watercolors were a new medium for him, but he’d done a creditable job. With a fine brush, he’d added a hint of two entwined figures standing at the top of the falls.</p>
<p>“Way to make me feel inadequate,” groused Natasha. She carefully set aside the just-unwrapped painting as they sat together on the bench in her apartment. “Some of us don’t have stuff-making skills.”</p>
<p>“You found me a first edition that I really appreciate. I’ve always heard it’s a challenging read but now I have time, so a perfect gift,” he said. “I guarantee you that I got more pleasure out of painting the watercolor than you did from selecting the book. So we’re even.”</p>
<p>She gave an exaggerated sigh. “You’re too goddamn nice,” she growled, punching him in the shoulder before falling, laughing, into his arms.</p>
<p>It had been a few days since Steve’s stunning scan and the subsequent epic conversation about super soldier programs, Infinity Stones, and how Shuri’s hypothetical transdimensional energy might tie into all of it. They were taking Dr. M’Gaji’s advice and letting the subject rest. If interested amateurs like them were going to come up with an insight, it probably wouldn’t be after sweating over it.</p>
<p>Steve had been surprised that Natasha balked when Shuri asked her to undergo the TDE scan. “There are others you can do first, if they’re willing,” she’d told the princess. “I’ll wait until you have a better handle on the effects of that radiation profile. I don’t have super-resistance like some people,” she’d added with a smirk at Steve. She wasn’t actually amused, though; he could tell. Shuri had backed off immediately, which was the right call. When Steve had asked Nat later why she was hesitant instead of her usual bold self, she’d been snippy. “Another average case isn’t going to do the project much good, and my TDE quotient isn’t a question I need answered.” She didn’t elaborate.</p>
<p>Natasha had become curious about Steve’s experiences during the Battle of Earth since he’d referred to them in the conversation with Shuri and M’Gaji. From his terse answers to a couple of questions, she’d discovered that for a significant part of his duel with Thanos there’d been no witnesses. Tony and Thor were unconscious and no one else had either dug out of the rubble or arrived through portals yet. Remarkably, Steve hadn’t told anyone the blow-by-blow. He became grouchy and anxious when she pressed him for details. “I’m not ready to talk about it,” he finally declared.</p>
<p>The pair had therefore been happy to avoid touchy subjects and turn their attention to holiday fun. They’d spent the bulk of Christmas morning decorating a tree. No conifers were available, of course, but they’d located a holly that had a fairly conical shape and dense branches. The day before, Steve had liberated the tree, planted in a large ceramic pot, from the rooftop garden. He’d astonished palace staffers eating lunch on the terrace. It was one thing to know that a fellow was extra strong; it was another to watch him walk off with a 250 kilogram load taller than he was, cheerfully assuring them in Wakandan that he was only borrowing it for awhile.</p>
<p>Decorations were almost nonexistent in local stores. Instead of resorting to mail order, the two popped and strung popcorn, cut out snowflakes, and taped together chains of foil and colored paper. The juvenile crafts were nostalgic for Steve and amusing for Natasha. As a surprise, using photos from his old phone, Steve had also sketched small pastels of the faces of family and friends, framed in painted wood to hang on the tree. He’d meant for the portraits to be festively sentimental, a way to acknowledge important relationships in their holiday. The little display did tickle them at first. After a few hours, though, the images of people they’d probably never see in person again seemed melancholy at best, pathetic at worst.</p>
<p>Despite the wilting of good cheer, they stuck to their after-dinner plan to view the video of the Avengers memorial service. One or the other had put it off since they’d gotten the link to the file several days before. They’d finally decided that Christmas seemed an appropriate day to watch and hear their friends.</p>
<p>“It can’t be too depressing,” Natasha had said. “Two-thirds of the event was about us, and we know we’re fine.” Steve had agreed.</p>
<p>They were wrong. They’d been prepared for Wanda’s dramatic speech about Vision. Stopping the recording for a few minutes afterward, they talked about him, marveled at how heartbreakingly strong Wanda had been, and recovered their composure. But neither had been ready for the emotions their own eulogies evoked.</p>
<p>Hearing Bucky was both inspiring and difficult. The nobility and grace his oldest friend showed, speaking bravely in front of a crowd, hit Steve hard. Natasha offered several times to pause when Steve seemed on the verge of breaking down, but he kept waving her to continue. He was impressed with how long and eloquently Buck talked, and was deeply touched by the grief expressed by others in the room. The audio picked up muffled sobs and sniffling, while the camera caught people wiping their eyes and leaning over to comfort one another. When Bucky’s speech concluded with, “So long, Steve; we miss you,” he gestured to Nat to stop the video. He closed his eyes tightly and breathed deeply for a minute before he was able to go on.</p>
<p>Natasha was more surprised at her response to Okoye’s eulogy. Here was someone who knew perfectly well she was alive, and in fact they saw each other a couple of times a week. Yet to hear the general speak so favorably of her, with deep conviction and affection, for some reason broke through Nat’s defenses. It didn’t help that Wanda could be seen openly weeping in the front row while Clint patted her shoulder awkwardly, plus there was the background crying. Nat watched with tears streaming down her face. Steve kept his arm around her, as much for his own support as hers.</p>
<p>They shut down the video projection after Rhodey’s conclusion. “So, I’m guessing we want to skip the holograms of the memorial tables?” Natasha asked, blotting her eyes with a kitchen towel.</p>
<p>“Definitely. Maybe I can take it tomorrow. Or next week,” Steve said, rubbing his forehead. He rarely experienced headaches, but the bleak emotions and the struggle to contain them made his temples throb. “Okoye said Sam put the displays together himself. Seeing the photos and keepsakes he chose is gonna be hard.”</p>
<p>The couple’s mood lightened as they discussed where to hang the new painting to display it to best advantage, finally deciding on a space where it would be seen immediately by visitors. Next they cleaned up the dinner dishes and chatted cheerfully. Natasha suggested as they finished that they spend the night at their own places.</p>
<p>“I have to get up at five-thirty to talk to Clint and Laura at six,” she explained. “That’ll be after the kids go to sleep, Missouri time. I want them to be able to get to bed at a reasonable hour once we’re done.”</p>
<p>“I don’t mind if you wake me up early,” Steve said. There was a slightly plaintive note in his voice.</p>
<p>“Well . . . I think it’s also a good idea generally,” Nat said. “Since the first night we spent together a few weeks ago, we haven’t skipped one. We shouldn’t get overly habituated to sleeping in the same bed. Let’s give it a rest,” she said resolutely.</p>
<p>“OK, whatever you want,” Steve responded, striving to sound nonchalant and noncommittal. In truth he was a little hurt, but he didn’t want to seem clingy. Maybe she was right, anyway. Might be good to maintain some independence.</p>
<p>Steve kissed Natasha good night at about twenty and went down the hall to his suite. She got ready for bed, including a shower. She’d gotten in the habit of bathing in the evening so her long hair would naturally dry by morning instead of stressing it with a hair dryer.</p>
<p>As Nat pottered about brushing her teeth and doing similar tasks, she reflected on the memorial service video. Now that she was past the first emotional punch, she could better appreciate this distanced connection with people she missed, including those as close as family. Bucky and Wanda had been front and center, but she’d also glimpsed many friends and acquaintances in the wide shots. It was nice to see the Wakandans mingling and getting to know them. Natasha hadn’t yet seen the visuals from the recent advisors meeting, but last month she’d watched Sam, Bruce, and Rhodey at the ill-fated news conference and talked with Clint on a holocall. She was surprised at how eager she’d been today to see each of them again. Especially Sam, looking handsome, confident, and in charge, although intensely sad.</p>
<p>Natasha reminded herself not to let slip to Clint that she’d viewed the memorial service. Okoye had confirmed that distribution was restricted to those absent: Dr. Strange, Janet Van Dyne, and the Wakandan royal siblings. If she revealed she’d gotten access, it would narrow his search down to those three sources or a back channel from TAO HQ. She assumed Clint was curious enough to stay on the hunt for her location if it seemed he could succeed.</p>
<p>Nat turned out the lights, got into bed, and set an alarm on her phone, leaving it on the bedside table. She turned on her right side and lay still awaiting sleep, which usually came within a few minutes—her pattern since she’d awakened in Wakanda after Vormir. Tonight, she tossed and turned several times, and after half an hour remained wide awake. The cause was no mystery. Not only was Steve’s absence acute, but she was also gripped by a feeling akin to dread, as though something were terribly wrong.</p>
<p>She fetched a glass of water from the kitchen, then turned off the night light, hoping the deeper darkness would soothe. Lying on her back staring upward, she was bothered by the empty silence. Steve was usually a quiet sleeper, but she was now accustomed to his breathing, warmth, scent, the careful way he turned over so as to disturb her as little as possible. Somehow she even missed his heartbeat, whether she heard it or felt it. Tonight, her body remained tense and her mind dwelt on his image and his voice. Her subconscious prompted her to reach out and touch him; since she could not, the same instinct demanded she go find him.</p>
<p>This is exactly the situation I was trying to avoid, Natasha thought. I’m already too used to spending my nights by his side. Got to break this habit.</p>
<p>She lasted another half hour.</p>
<p>In his apartment, Steve lay propped up on throw pillows on the living room bench reading his Christmas present, a hardcover of <i>Infinite Jest</i>. He wore a long, earth-toned tie-dyed nightshirt made of soft cotton, common local loungewear. Rather than bracing it anywhere, he held up the heavy thousand-page book at a perfect reading angle, which for most people would quickly grow uncomfortable. There were obscure little advantages to super strength and stamina.</p>
<p>A flicker moving by the hallway windows had him on his feet and at the front door in seconds. He opened it as Natasha was preparing to knock. She looked up at him charmingly, damp hair in a braid. She wore sandals and a pink bathrobe and held a pillowcase like a duffel bag.</p>
<p>“Ho ho ho,” she said meekly.</p>
<p>“Are you a late-blooming Christmas caroler?”</p>
<p>“I didn’t bring my songbook, but if you hum a few bars I can fake it.”</p>
<p>Steve crossed his arms and looked stern. “What happened to ‘we shouldn’t sleep together tonight’?”</p>
<p>In a nasal accent, she announced soberly, “My name is Natasha and I’m a Steve-o-holic.”</p>
<p>He threw his head back and laughed.</p>
<p>I would give my two fattest oxen, Nat thought, to see this man laugh like that again before we go to sleep.</p>
<p>“So, you’re looking for a meeting of Steve-o-holics Anonymous?” he asked, still grinning.</p>
<p>“No. I’m here to surrender to my addiction.”</p>
<p>He backed through the doorway, inviting her in with a sweep of his hand. “Surrender accepted.”</p>
<p>Natasha minced through, batting her eyelashes, and ditched her sandals next to where his were parked on a mat. Steve chuckled and closed the door behind them.</p>
<p>“Clothes?” He pointed to the pillowcase.</p>
<p>“Yep,” she said, swinging it. “And makeup, and my phone. You’ll wake up when my alarm goes off, and I’m sorry about that. But it was obvious I wasn’t going to get any decent amount of sleep if I didn’t come over. I hope you don’t mind too much.”</p>
<p>“Not at all,” he said, relieved that she would be beside him tonight. He was still up because he’d been avoiding the empty bedroom. “I’ll get up with you. I was planning to make us breakfast anyway—I’ll start the prep early. You can make the call in the bedroom. I promise not to run in and mug for Laura and Clint.”</p>
<p>“Jesus, that would be a hoot. They would just die. Almost worth it. I’ve been super good about not mentioning you though, and Okoye thinks Clint is now thoroughly confused about whether I’m in Wakanda. I could tell he was pretty sure of it before. She did a great job when she talked to him at the service. Lady can act.”</p>
<p>“I shouldn’t have sent the covered dish to the potluck,” Steve acknowledged. “Tumeli said they almost cracked up when talking with Wanda and the boys about who made it—they pretended it was an unnamed volunteer. It all got eaten, though, and everybody said it was good,” he added proudly.</p>
<p>He put out his hand to take her makeshift bag. “You should tie that pillowcase to a bamboo pole.”</p>
<p>“I’ve never seen that in person, only in cartoons and stuff.”</p>
<p>“I have. During the Great Depression. Hobos actually did carry bindles back then.” He headed for bed and she followed him. The living room lights would turn off automatically.</p>
<p>“I’m not a hobo. I may not own much right now, but I earn room and board with my job,” Natasha pointed out.</p>
<p>“You’re also much cuter than the hobos I’ve seen,” Steve said, setting the pillowcase on the side chair in the bedroom that had become “hers.”</p>
<p>“In old illustrations, a sack on a stick also signifies a kid running away from home,” Nat said, shedding her bathrobe across the same chair. She wasn’t wearing anything else.</p>
<p>“Well, that’s accurate—you just ran away from your apartment.” He opened his arms, and they embraced.</p>
<p>“Didn’t get very far,” she noted with a smile.</p>
<p>“Is it where you want to be? For now, anyway.”</p>
<p>“Not just for now.” Natasha rested against his chest, reveling in the familiar resonance and rhythm of his heart. Having seen his newfangled scan, she supposed that she was half-immersed in the invisible glow that emanated from him. Whatever the cause, snuggling against Steve brought her deep satisfaction. “Maybe we should move in together,” she said quietly.</p>
<p>Steve held his breath a few moments to help contain his excitement. “Are you sure? It hasn’t been two months since we started, uh, dating or whatever we’re calling it. And less than three weeks since we started spending our nights together.”</p>
<p>“I think I’m ready, if you are.”</p>
<p>“I am. And our friends would be thrilled.”</p>
<p>“Hm.” Natasha drew back and looked up at him. “We have meaningful jobs that don’t involve violence or danger. We’re contributing to cutting-edge research. We have a circle of loyal, delightful friends and interesting acquaintances. Our living space is safe and comfy. You’re making art and learning a new language. I’m planning to start dance classes in the new year. And we’re talking about sharing a home. You know what, Rogers?”</p>
<p>“What, Romanov?”</p>
<p>“We appear to have gotten ourselves a life.”</p>
<p>“You appear to be right. Better late than never.”</p>
<p>She let go of him and dove onto the bed. Rolling over and patting the space next to her, she asked, “Do we have two lives—one each—or one life?”</p>
<p>“We seem to be sharing, so I guess one big one,” Steve said, stripping off his nightshirt and tossing it aside. He got in under the coverlet beside her. “The only drawback is that so many of our old friends aren’t in it,” he added regretfully.</p>
<p>“I know,” Nat answered, taking his hand. “But I don’t see a way around it. If we surfaced and tried to include them, we’d be drawn back into the old patterns, too. We’d lose much of what makes our new life great. Staying in the background, not putting ourselves front and center on the world’s stage. The slow pace. Freedom to savor everything. Safety. Peace.”</p>
<p>“You haven’t mentioned the main thing we’ve acquired.”</p>
<p>“What?”</p>
<p>“Each other.”</p>
<p>“Well, that goes without saying.”</p>
<p>“Not for me.” He drew her close again, and touched his forehead to hers. “I want to make it crystal clear. I’m yours.”</p>
<p>Oh God, could this man make me any happier? thought Natasha. “That’s good, because apparently I need you in my bed to sleep at night.”</p>
<p>“I’ll be here. Every night. As long as I can.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0057"><h2>57. Making a Call</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Rating: Teen and Up<br/>Content note: mild sexual situations</p>
<p>Natasha checks in with Clint and Laura and gives them a peek into her new reality, including an unspecified boyfriend—but still doesn’t reveal where she is. They all discuss the disposition of her property, and later Clint and Laura argue about who she could possibly be with.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Natasha sat on the floor in Steve’s bedroom, leaning against a blank wall. Her phone lay in front of her on a footstool. As she waited for the burner number she’d texted to Clint the previous week (via another fake number) to appear on the call ID, a last-minute qualm prompted her to jump up. She ran to the bedroom door to close it. The occasional clank or clunk from Steve’s work in the kitchen was of no consequence, but what if someone came by and he answered the door? Highly unlikely at this hour of the morning, but better safe than sorry. It wouldn’t do for their friends to hear his familiar tone in the background.</p>
<p>Settling down again crosslegged, Nat straightened her plain gray T-shirt and rearranged her long, loose red tresses. Wanting Laura and Clint to see her looking cute and put together even in her intentionally generic outfit, she was pleased to be having a good hair day and had carefully applied more makeup than she usually bothered with anymore. She hoped they wouldn’t notice her slightly larger size—she hadn’t weighed herself but guessed she’d put on at least two kilos since speaking with them a little over a month before. Steve insisted she looked wonderfully healthy, but he was hardly objective. Natasha definitely had more sparkle in her eyes and rosier cheeks than she would have on a typical morning in the old days. Her bedmate had awakened about five and found her already up; they’d greeted each other with vigorous affection.</p>
<p>She launched the video projection when the call came in and was amused to see Clint and Laura looking worn out. They’d clearly had a big holiday with the three kids and probably friends and relatives. A darkened window could be glimpsed in the background of their bedroom.</p>
<p>“Merry Christmas!” Nat exclaimed.</p>
<p>“Happy Boxing Day!” Laura replied with a winsome smile and an innocent air.</p>
<p>Natasha chuckled. “You guys won’t quit. I’m not telling what day or time it is here.” She’d arranged the lighting so it was the same as during their previous call: indoor anywhere anytime.</p>
<p>Clint and Laura exchanged a glance and shrugged. “It was worth a shot,” he said. “Hope you’re doing well, wherever you are.”</p>
<p>“I am. How’s everybody at your house?” Nat asked.</p>
<p>Laura proceeded to fill her in for the next ten minutes, with Clint contributing a word here and there. The children were reintegrating well into their little corner of society, everyone was healthy, and it had been a joyous Christmas with mounds of presents for the kids—mostly from the dad who’d been missing them for five years.</p>
<p>“I have some good news for you,” Clint said when his wife had wound down. “I’ve got your stuff.”</p>
<p>“What stuff?” Natasha said, puzzled.</p>
<p>“Possessions they dug out of the ruins of your apartment at HQ. At least the things that are relatively intact.”</p>
<p>“Oh, wow,” she responded, genuinely surprised. “It’s not stuck in legal limbo?”</p>
<p>“Sharon hired a lawyer to deal with all this, lady named Aspinall. She’s ace. The coroner produced a presumptive death certificate for you, relying on my affidavit. Bruce and Rhodey also swore to what happened before and after the time heist, to back me up. Unusual to get it issued immediately with only one eyewitness to the event, but they took circumstances into consideration and believed us,” Clint informed her.</p>
<p>“Did you sign the affidavit before you heard from me?” asked Natasha.</p>
<p>“Yep. Glad I didn’t have to perjure myself or whatever. Now I’m just failing to report new information. Anyhow, the lawyer talked the probate court judge into releasing your personal effects. There’s nothing of serious monetary value, so I brought it all home. The rest of your will may take awhile to get through the system, but the legal beagle said the court seemed sympathetic to letting me take over as executor instead of, um, that guy I’m not supposed to mention. The real estate is a problem because you left it to him, and he’s not declared dead. That’ll take years, probably. Ms. Aspinall had the idea of petitioning for it to be put in trust. That would mean it would technically remain available for the beneficiary even though everybody knows he’s gone. If I could get named trustee, I could lease the properties out for you, or <i>to</i> you under an alias, whatever you want.”</p>
<p>“That sounds great. It’ll be awhile until I can travel securely, but I like the idea of maintaining my bolt-holes for the future, and generating some income for us now. If this works out, I’ll split the proceeds with you. Halvsies,” Natasha offered.</p>
<p>“I’m happy to do it for a normal percentage,” Clint said. “I don’t need to make a big profit off your situation. A related question is how you want to handle the assets you’ve left Laura and me, once we get control.”</p>
<p>“Do whatever you want with them. It would make me happy if you set aside some in the children’s college fund.”</p>
<p>“Nat, come on,” Laura objected. “Technically, yes, the money will be ours, but you deserve to have what you worked hard for.”</p>
<p>“You two are good eggs,” Natasha said. “We can worry about that later, though, OK? It’s Christmas!”</p>
<p>“We could wrap all your junk as presents,” Clint suggested. “Where do you want me to send it? There’s two largish boxes. Some of it smells smoky but we’re airing it all out. No radiological contamination or weird alien substances. It’s been checked over for that sort of thing.”</p>
<p>“Huh. It’ll be interesting to see what got through the destruction lottery. Did anybody ask you for mementos?”</p>
<p>“Yes, several people. If there are any items you don’t want to keep, I can definitely find homes for them.”</p>
<p>“I’ll arrange it so you can send the boxes to a depot and I’ll have them transshipped.” Nat gave him a wry smile. “I’ll make sure it’s somewhere busy enough you won’t be able to track every truck that leaves. And, you know: please promise me you won’t try. I’d rather not have my stuff than be discovered at the moment.”</p>
<p>He heaved a sigh and grudgingly agreed. “You’re a pain in the butt, Romanov. And here I helped Sam curate your memorial table, let him borrow a bunch of your tchotchkes.”</p>
<p>“What’s a memorial table?” Nat asked with perfectly pitched puzzlement.</p>
<p>Clint explained the memorial service displays. Laura confirmed that Nat’s had been tasteful and beautifully evocative—she’d viewed the hologram of it.</p>
<p>“What’d you think of the video?” he asked nonchalantly.</p>
<p>“How would I see it?” she said, retuning her bemused air. “You said the service was strictly for TAO and the advisory council members.”</p>
<p>“Thought you might’ve copped one somewhere. You’re good like that. I can put it on a file transfer site so you can download, if you want.”</p>
<p>“I don’t know if I do. It would be upsetting to watch. You said in your text you were going to try to dodge giving my eulogy—did you manage it?”</p>
<p>“Yeah. You haven’t heard who did?”</p>
<p>“Where would I find that out if you didn’t tell me, Barton? Who was it?”</p>
<p>“Gen. Okoye. It was really touching. I stood up with her and lighted a memorial candle for you.”</p>
<p>“Aw, nice. That’s a clever way to include a second friend for each person. I’m impressed that she traveled all the way to New York for it. Just upload that part, why don’t you? I’m super curious now as to what she said.”</p>
<p>Watching Clint’s reaction, Natasha smiled inwardly. They were buying her acting job hook, line, and sinker.</p>
<p>“You should see the rest of it too,” Laura urged. “Wanda and Bucky spoke.”</p>
<p>“Hers would be too heartbreaking.”</p>
<p>“The one for Steve—”</p>
<p>“I thought I’d made it clear I don’t want to talk about him, nor do I need to hear that speech,” Nat said sternly.</p>
<p>Laura’s eyes went wide. “OK, sorry. But do watch Wanda’s eulogy for Vision. It’s so moving.”</p>
<p>“They adored each other,” Natasha said with unfeigned sadness.</p>
<p>The three allowed silence to reign for several seconds, a sort of spontaneous tribute.</p>
<p>“It’s tragic,” Laura finally said, shaking her head mournfully. “Makes me want to hug my sweetie all the time.” She turned and noisily kissed Clint on the ear, making him duck and chuckle.</p>
<p>Laura added earnestly, “Nat, I hope you can find someone special someday. Especially now that you’re out of the business.”</p>
<p>Should I admit anything? Natasha thought. On one hand, keeping mum about relationships was the most prudent option from an opsec point of view. On the other, her having acquired a man would confuse the Bartons even further, helpful in keeping them off her trail. And then she could share with her friends at least a taste of the joy of her new life, even if she’d be obscuring the real cause.</p>
<p>“Well,” Nat said with a coy smirk, “I actually have a ‘someone special’ right now.” At that moment she heard a muffled thump from the kitchen, probably Steve halving a melon. Her smile turned genuine and glowing.</p>
<p>Laura’s mouth dropped open and Clint’s eyebrows went up.</p>
<p>“You’re dating somebody already?” he blurted out.</p>
<p>“I’d definitely call it beyond dating at this point.”</p>
<p>“Really? Is he a local, or what? Someone you met before? Or a new guy?” Laura begged to know.</p>
<p>Natasha waggled a reproving finger. “Nuh-uh. No details. Just cluing you in that things are going well in my love life, finally.”</p>
<p>“Is it a boy or a girl?” Clint asked, eyes narrowed.</p>
<p>“I admit it’s a feller. I haven’t changed that much.”</p>
<p>“No wonder you look so good. It’s serious, isn’t it?” Laura speculated, watching Nat’s face, which was radiant.</p>
<p>“Yes, it is.”</p>
<p>“You living together?” Clint followed up.</p>
<p>“Not yet, but we spend a <i>lot</i> of time with each other. In fact,” Natasha said, in what felt like a bold move, “I’m at his place, and he’s fixing us—uh, a meal, right now.” In her eagerness to give them a peek at her happiness, she barely avoided admitting to breakfast and giving them a time zone clue. She could feel herself blushing, and wondered if that came across on the holocall. Her giggle certainly did.</p>
<p>Laura clapped her hands in delight. “Oh Natasha, I’ve never seen you goofy over anybody.”</p>
<p>“You and me both, lady. It seems like my brain has changed. At long last, it’s going to allow me to be happy. I hope.”</p>
<p>After another minute of pleasantries, Natasha shut down the connection as they all waved a cheery goodbye to one another. She bounded out to the kitchen to give Steve a report and inspect the meal preparations.</p>
<p>“Call finished,” she said, leaning on the counter as he welcomed her with a grin. “They’re all doing great, had a lovely holiday, only tried to trick me into revealing clues to my whereabouts a couple of times, and offered to send me the memorial video. They have two boxes of my salvaged personal effects to ship. Your status is indeed throwing a wrench into probating my will because the courts don’t know what to do with someone living in an alternate timeline. Laura is ecstatic that I have a boyfriend. Though he didn’t say so, Clint obviously thinks I’m nuts to be in a serious relationship so soon.”</p>
<p>Steve paused his melon slicing in surprise. “You mentioned you have a significant other? Isn’t that cutting it a little close?”</p>
<p>“Nah. They think I hate your guts and never want to hear your name again. My having a main squeeze only reinforces that.”</p>
<p>“It seems strange to cheer that on, but woo hoo.”</p>
<p>“Whatcha makin’? Something smells wonderful already.”</p>
<p>“Home fries are cooking. I’ve chopped up some of our leftover ham for omelettes. What kind of toast you want?”</p>
<p>“Poppyseed bagel?”</p>
<p>“No dice. Wakanda isn’t exactly bagel central. I have dark rye and French bread.”</p>
<p>“French then.”</p>
<p>He finished slicing and started to plate the melon. “You know, I should make pain perdu. Sam showed me how, way back when. Next time I do breakfast. It’s more fun to cook for two.”</p>
<p>“Yum. This living together business is not going to do my ass any favors, I can tell,” Nat said with a sigh. “It was already beginning to expand with delicious food delivered to us three times a day, and now you’re cranking up Steve’s Kitchen. I’m doomed.”</p>
<p>“Doom is such a strong word. You’ll come to a new equilibrium with whatever eating and exercise routine you settle on. And if you put on some pounds, it doesn’t matter. You can relax now.” Steve leaned over and kissed her on the cheek, then reached down and gave her bottom a squeeze. “Yum. You’re wonderful at any size,” he said into her ear.</p>
<p>“Uh—you know, if you turn off the potatoes, we could delay the meal a little while. I could hop right up on the counter here . . .”</p>
<p>He laughed. “I can have the omelettes done in a few minutes. Why don’t we wait a half hour until after we replenish our fuel reserves? We don’t have anything scheduled for today. We can go right back to bed.”</p>
<p>Natasha pouted outrageously, then grinned. “I suppose. As long as <i>you</i> are part of my complete, nutritious breakfast.”</p>
<p>* * *</p>
<p>In Missouri, Clint and Laura took a few minutes before bedding down for the night to discuss what they’d seen and heard from their old friend.</p>
<p>“Damn. I was convinced she’s in Wakanda, but between what went on at the service and what she said tonight, it does not seem like it,” Clint said, a bit grumpy.</p>
<p>“True. But she still might be there. She’s a good actor; a spy has to be, and she’s the best there is. The Wakandans are security pros too and used to keeping secrets,” Laura said, plumping up her pillow. “I noticed something about Okoye’s eulogy: it never confirms that she believes Natasha is still dead. At one point she speaks in the present tense. I watched the thing twice.”</p>
<p>“Well, even if that <i>is</i> where she’s hiding, it doesn’t much matter. She won’t let us come visit, with the attitude she’s keeping up. What’s disturbing is this new man she’s sprung on us,” Clint said with a concerned frown as he settled into bed.</p>
<p>“Why disturbing? She seems genuinely happy. Giddy in love.”</p>
<p>“After so many years not dating at all, she’s suddenly in a serious relationship? She’s been back less than two months. I worry about where her head is at. Not good judgment. Is she sure this guy doesn’t know who she is? Is he taking advantage of her somehow?”</p>
<p>Laura waved a hand dismissively. “There’s a perfectly obvious, simple explanation. She’s not with someone new. She’s with someone she has known a long time.” She paused as Clint looked at her sourly, guessing her train of thought.</p>
<p>His face cleared suddenly as an idea came to him. “Hey. Do you think she’s with Sam?”</p>
<p>“Wait, what?”</p>
<p>“It’s not that much of a stretch. They were already friends. Got to know each other really well while they were underground on the run together. Maybe Steve dumped her off with him and one thing led to another.”</p>
<p>“He lives at the HQ residence complex, so she’d have to be nearby. Would she risk discovery by living so close to everyone, including a telepath? Would Sam be willing to keep all this on the down low? Barnes would have to be in on it too—she just claimed to be at ‘his place’ and you said they’re housemates,” Laura said, frowning. “She always expressed the same brotherly sort of feeling toward Sam that she has toward you. Given all that, I just don’t see it.”</p>
<p>Clint pursed his lips as he contemplated the possibility. “She said the new guy can cook, and so can Sam.”</p>
<p>“Lots of men can cook. Including Steve Rogers,” she said crisply, knowing it would irritate him.</p>
<p>Clint rewarded her with an amusing scowl. “Her being with him is impossible and you know why. The scenario doesn’t make any sense. Even if he were somehow around—which he can’t be—if she were going to get together with Steve she had plenty of chances during the five years of the Interim. That means one or the other of them wasn’t up for it, so why would they be now? You mentioned how she treats me and Sam like brothers; she did the same with Steve.”</p>
<p>“No, not the same. Different vibe,” Laura insisted. “You used to agree with me that the two of them were close friends who had the potential to get together someday.”</p>
<p>“But you heard how she talked about Cap tonight. Totally refused to talk about him, actually. The woman is pissed off, and I don’t blame her. He saved her but he ditched her and that’s that,” Clint said with finality.</p>
<p>“Wrong,” Laura said flatly, crossing her arms. “Nat is acting that way to throw us off the trail.”</p>
<p>“Tell you what. Let’s up our bet. I’m so sure I’m right I’ll wager <i>two</i> months of dishwashing.”</p>
<p>Laura shook her head.</p>
<p>“Aha, stakes got too high to cling to your silly theory, eh?”</p>
<p>She looked at him with disdain. “I see your two months and raise you to three.”</p>
<p>“Deal. Buy some good rubber gloves, you’re gonna need ‘em,” Clint teased. He reached over to the bedside table and turned off the lamp.</p>
<p>“We’ll find out, one of these days,” Laura said calmly into the darkness.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0058"><h2>58. Real Dreams</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Rating: Teen and Up<br/>Content note: none</p><p>Wanda has a weird dream, but when she discusses it with Dr. Strange he thinks it was much more than a bizarre turn of her subconscious.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Note on Wanda’s age: From what I can gather from online sources, people assumed she was born 1998-2000 and the bombing that killed her parents was in 2007-08. In WandaVision they state she was born in 1989, which doesn’t make a lot of sense because characters were calling her a “kid” who was high school age in Ultron (2015 time period). I’m going with the 1998 date.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Wearing black slacks and a plain button-up white shirt, Wanda sipped a mug of strong black coffee, enjoying the taste, the aroma of the curling vapor, and the warmth on her hands. She was in the kitchen of the small third-floor apartment she shared with Pietro. Soon it would be time to head out to the retail job she’d taken during her winter break from university.</p><p>As she looked out at the familiar Novi Grad street, frosted this morning with snow, she felt a separation, like a silent click inside her mind. Suddenly she was watching herself gaze out the window. Wanda was startled to see that the self she now observed looked years older than what she typically saw in the mirror.</p><p>She realized she was dreaming. Her knowledge of her real life in the USA returned. She was glad becoming aware of it hadn’t awakened her; she felt curious about what might happen in this oddly vivid but low-key dream. Wishing she could again inhabit her dream self, she was amazed when the wish came true immediately. Wanda found she could remain inside DreamWanda, with that self’s thoughts and memories, yet retain a sliver of lucid awareness. How interesting!</p><p>DreamWanda finished her coffee and washed the dishes. RealWanda noted her older version’s sensations and state of mind. The water in the sink running over her hands, the smooth ceramic cup and plate, her feet in soft slippers—everything felt absolutely real. DreamWanda thought about when her tram was due to leave the nearest stop for downtown and visualized getting off near the curio shop where she worked.</p><p>So much of this dream seems true to life, thought RealWanda. Obviously it was taking place before the city’s 2015 destruction. She found that her counterpart’s internal image of the city included the long-ago air raids that had killed her parents. Intriguingly, she could find no recollection of the Scepter in DreamWanda’s memory. Nor did she seem to know about possessing physical or mental powers out of the ordinary, so the dream time also had to be before she and Pietro joined von Strucker’s experiments.</p><p>If this dream is from when I’m in my mid-teens, why do I look ten years older and think I’m in college? She willed DreamWanda to go watch television in the living room; she could faintly hear a perky female anchor reporting on a morning news program.</p><p>DreamWanda obliged, thinking it would be good to catch a weather report before leaving for work. RealWanda was impressed at how advanced the holoprojection TV was for the time period. But she was astonished when she saw the clue she was hoping for, part of the chyron (in Sokovian Cyrillic) at the bottom of the screen:</p><p>
  <b>      7:22 a.m. Friday 29 December 2023</b>
</p><p>According to that, the time in this dream was close to the same moment in her real life, asleep in New York in a time zone six hours earlier.</p><p>Behind the TV newsreader, three still photos appeared: the faces of Natasha, Steve, and Tony. DreamWanda reached for the remote control even before RealWanda willed her to. She turned up the volume.</p><p>“Excitement is building for the appearance Tuesday in Novi Grad of three of the Avengers—Captain America, Black Widow, and the recently retired Iron Man,” said the anchor in Sokovian. “Their seven p.m. news conference has been moved to the convention center to accommodate the many residents wanting to see the famed heroes. This is the first visit of any of the team since their 2015 raid on a HYDRA facility near the city.”</p><p>So that attack took place, but no Ultron catastrophe? thought RealWanda, puzzled. DreamWanda was very interested in the report, and was thrilled about the coveted all-access passes she’d obtained for the event—for her, Pietro, and Zoran. She was particularly looking forward to seeing Black Widow and Cap, her favorites. RealWanda could detect no memory of any public falling-out between Avengers factions, but DreamWanda held a grudge against Stark over his past arms dealing.</p><p>Tickets? A friend named Zoran? Herself as an Avengers fangirl rather than a protester against America and superheroes? This certainly was an odd and detailed dream.</p><p>The anchor was continuing, but DreamWanda had paused the video feed to examine the silent B-roll footage displayed onscreen. A caption read:</p><p>
  <b>     From October 2022 news conference, New York City, USA</b>
</p><p>Natasha, in her black tac suit and a short haircut, stood at a lectern, caught in mid-sentence by the pause. To her left, in business attire, were Tony, Rhodey, Clint, and Bruce, without a hint of Hulk. To her right, in tactical uniforms (subdued in color and design) were Steve, Bucky, and Sam. Next to them stood Peter Parker, in his Spider-Man suit but no mask. His face was filled out, no longer a skinny teenager’s. Even more surprising was the last in the lineup—T’Challa, in the Black Panther habit.</p><p>Why would she be dreaming this?</p><p>DreamWanda pressed Resume and the newsreader intoned, “A demonstration outside the venue is planned by those who believe the United States government and former weapons manufacturer Stark Industries have not made satisfactory reparations to Sokovia. Protestors point to the many civilian casualties and widespread destruction caused by the US-led attack on our country in 2008 and the more limited effects of the 2015 operation. The official stance of the Sokovian government is that apologies and aid negotiated under the 2019 treaty are sufficient. Speculation remains, however, that the two Avengers and Mr. Stark, who left the team last year but is still chairman and CEO of his huge corporation, will be announcing a significant initiative to benefit the city. In other news—”</p><p>The blond woman on screen was cut off abruptly as DreamWanda powered down the television, feeling vague anxiety about being late to her job. As she put on her boots and coat in preparation for the cold weather, RealWanda observed the thoughts and feelings of her dream counterpart. Other than being in a slight hurry, she seemed calm and happy, looking forward that evening to dinner with Zoran, a fellow graduate student she’d been dating a couple of months and liked quite well. There was no memory, not even an inkling, of Vision. As though he had never existed.</p><p>Wanda made her way down the stairwell to the sidewalk, stepping carefully to avoid slipping on the ice. As she watched for the scheduled tram, she reached into her coat pocket to check for her transit pass. RealWanda marveled at the realism of the scene, down to every sense impression and detail. She recognized the street, one in the city’s south end that she’d traversed many a time. It looked much as she remembered, except for a few remodeled storefronts and new high-tech shelters at the tram stops.</p><p>She called up vague thoughts and feelings of dread, hoping that DreamWanda would then recall the scariest things that had happened in her world. It worked, and as the young woman hurried along she was beset by memories of the bombing some fifteen years before, the Sokovian civil unrest of 2015, and recent reports and rumors of hostile space aliens with advanced technology. She seemed to know nothing of the Battle of Wakanda or the Battle of Earth, an implacable Titan, or a Snap. These should have been thoughts near the surface of awareness for any Earth dweller in late 2023.</p><p>Wanda was clearly dreaming of a world where none of these things had happened. That wasn’t surprising—dreams could be a way to escape the roller coaster of reality, the loss of two friends, and her grief over Vision. But why would her subconscious mind create a world without him?</p><p>Without meaning to, RealWanda found herself drifting away from her counterpart, as though she were a helium balloon. She yearned toward DreamWanda, wanting to follow her further to glean more insights. But instead she floated upward, which did give her an excellent view of the city. It seemed prosperous and bustling under its dusting of snow, glittering in the sunshine.</p><p>Wanda’s eyes popped open, and she stared up at the faint glow of the white ceiling of her bedroom in the Avengers condo complex. She turned her head to read the clock.</p><p>* * *</p><p>“I woke up at a quarter to two,” Wanda said. It was the evening after her anomalous dream, and Stephen Strange was staring intently at her across the kitchen table. She’d texted him about the oddity in the morning and he’d asked to meet later that day.</p><p>“With every hour that passes, the more I think it was just an unusual dream, nothing special or magical,” she added. “Telling you about it makes it seem boring and silly. I’m embarrassed I hyped it.”</p><p>“Please don’t be. The dream does have significance. The mundane content is key, actually,” Strange said. “You did a great job using lucid dreaming techniques to gather information. I think we’re going to be chewing on this one for awhile. Especially if you start having recurring dreams.”</p><p>“I may have already,” Wanda said. “I had a dream two nights ago that I don’t remember too well, but it was kind of like this one. Much shorter, and I didn’t separate from my dream self. It was in a small apartment and extremely vivid but nothing much happened. I didn’t think anything of it until this morning. Same feel as last night’s dream.”</p><p>“Good,” Strange said with satisfaction. “If you continue to dream like this, we’ll get more data on this important phenomenon.”</p><p>“You think it’s worthwhile to study?”</p><p>“I do. This was already on the Masters’ radar. One of our number reported an anomalous dream a couple of weeks ago. Short, like your first one.” He began to count on his fingers. “Similarities: time and date in the dream were within twenty-four hours of the time the dreamer was sleeping. Dreamer and primary dream figure were the same person. Elements of lucid dreaming. Events of the dream were realistic. Sensory environment indistinguishable from normal life.”</p><p>“Huh. Glad I decided to text you after all,” said Wanda. “Is this type of thing well known in your circles?”</p><p>“Such dreams are actually quite rare—at least, they used to be. Wong did a quick survey of the esoteric literature and found a couple of possible causes, but the dream you had last night gives us more to work with.” He paused, narrowing his eyes. “I think a timeline transudation is what we’re looking at here.”</p><p>“Timeline what?” Wanda said, confused.</p><p>“When events taking place in one timeline can be perceived in a separate timeline, spontaneously. Masters can, with great effort, ‘see’ into other timelines, but Wong’s reading indicated that spontaneous transudation—you could call it bleed-through—can take place during sleep. On occasion it can occur in visions when an adept is awake. In the past, there weren’t many active timelines here, at least not fresh ones. Earthlings have now invented and used a time machine—rather imprudently because of the dire circumstances—causing a number of splits. Transudations are more likely from new timelines,” Strange told her.</p><p>“So lots of people are having these dreams?”</p><p>“More than in the past, quite likely, but the phenomenon is restricted to people with well-honed metaphysical powers. Also young children; they’re more open. I’m not surprised that you’re experiencing this, given your enhancements.”</p><p>“But <i>why</i> am I seeing what I’m seeing?” Wanda asked.</p><p>“The lore indicates that when something meaningful happens to a person, their counterpart in another timeline may somehow pick up on it and have cross-timeline ‘dreams.’ But there are many questions. What qualities in an event, or in a person, trigger this phenomenon? Why is it rare? Or is it less rare than we think but people don’t talk about it? There haven’t been enough documented occurrences to draw conclusions.”</p><p>“Although this is coming through my subconscious while I’m asleep, I’m really peeking into an alternative reality.”</p><p>“Yes. To call it a dream is a misnomer,” Strange asserted. “For a limited period, you <i>are</i> Wanda Maximoff living in a different timeline. We could call her ‘Wanda Two.’ The fact that you realize it within the dreamlike state is a fantastic advantage.”</p><p>“But if Wanda Two is me at the same date in a different reality, why does she appear so much older there?”</p><p>“Wanda Two doesn’t remember the Snap, so it appears it never happened. She lived those five years, and you didn’t. Like all of us who experienced the Blip, you came back the same age as when we Snapped out.”</p><p>“Duh,” Wanda said, bopping herself lightly on the head. “That makes sense. Also explains why Peter looked so grown up. But what prevented Thanos from succeeding there?”</p><p>Dr. Strange leaned back in his chair. “This is pure speculation, but you might be seeing into the timeline split off when Avengers traveled to 2012 during the Heist to get three of the stones. They didn’t put it in the public report, but I assume you’ve been told that the Space Stone was stolen by Loki in the course of the operation. He used it to vanish, no one knows where. Maybe Thanos hasn’t caught up with Loki in that timeline.”</p><p>Wanda’s eyes were wide. “Oh my. If a stone went missing in 2012 . . . Maybe the Mind Stone did too. That would account for no Strucker experiments, no enhancements for me and Pietro, no Ultron, no Novi Grad catastrophe. And no Vision.”</p><p>Strange nodded. “It would explain a lot. But the Mind Stone was returned to that split timeline.”</p><p>“We don’t know for sure. There’s no proof.”</p><p>“You’re not taking Rogers’ word for it? He had the reputation of the world’s most trustworthy guy.”</p><p>“He was. But I noticed that after we came back in the Blip, he acted different. Not quite himself. He did some things that surprised me, including leaving. He didn’t even say goodbye to everybody.” Wanda looked away, not wanting to discuss with Strange how hurt she’d been that Steve had left so abruptly and hadn’t even sent her a letter like the boys received. “If he didn’t put the stone back where and when he got it, for whatever reason, maybe it never ended up where Thanos could find it.”</p><p>“It’s a possibility. Or it could be you’re seeing into an entirely different timeline, or there’s another reason for the absence of Mind Stone effects.” He looked suddenly weary. “We could delve into it further. I could get a project together with the Masters, do what it takes to intentionally explore a specific alternate timeline in depth. Frankly I can’t muster much enthusiasm at the moment. It requires considerable preparation to do it safely. We need to make sure we don’t affect anything and further split the timeline.”</p><p>“There’s no reason I can think of to investigate, other than curiosity,” Wanda assured him. “No crisis.”</p><p>“Monitoring your anomalous ‘dream’ situation is more important because there must be a reason you’re having them spontaneously, and it may be a reason we need to know about. Speaking of anomalies, have you seen any more of those ‘shimmers’ you described?”</p><p>“Yes, actually. Christmas evening. We had a bunch of folks over at Sam and Bucky’s place for dessert. Like at the memorial, the disturbance appeared several times, was hard to focus on, and I don’t think anyone else saw it. I couldn’t turn my full attention to it—I was talking to our guests. But there were fewer people than at the service, and I wasn’t upset, so I could tune in enough to get a vague impression. There was a presence. It wasn’t spooky. Almost friendly, really, but diffuse and hard to get a read on.”</p><p>“Fascinating. I wonder if your first intuition about this was close to the truth,” Strange mused.</p><p>“But I’d guessed it was you.”</p><p>“Could have been someone else who can do the same thing. Not a Master of our order; I’ve checked with them already. If we’re starting to see more frequent cross-time communication, maybe it’s someone from another timeline ‘peeking’ into our reality the same way that Wong or I would into theirs.”</p><p>“Could someone perceive me when I’m experiencing that other timeline in my sleep?” Wanda asked, concerned.</p><p>“No, it’s a safe way to do it because your locus of perception is within your alternate self, rather than floating around where your presence might be detected.”</p><p>“So it would have to be a magician type causing the anomalies I see.”</p><p>“Or someone with your enhanced ability, plus basic training. Or . . .” Strange trailed off and paused a moment. “It could be someone permanently in astral form, visiting the 4D world.”</p><p>“You mean dead people.”</p><p>Strange nodded. “Does that disturb you?”</p><p>She shrugged. “Not really. I’ve experienced a lot scarier things than ghosts. Some voyeur?”</p><p>“No. Spirits who bother to travel to the material world have strong motivation. Usually to check on a loved one. Occasionally anger or revenge, or extreme curiosity about how some unfinished business of theirs turned out.”</p><p>“So it could be a dead relative or lover or friend of anyone who was at the Christmas party,” Wanda speculated.</p><p>“The ‘target,’ as it were, would likely be someone who was at both the service and the party,” noted Strange.</p><p>“Which is still several people. Maybe I’m biased because I’m the one seeing the anomalies, but I have a feeling it’s related to me.” She looked apprehensively at her companion, but he didn’t seem to regard her statement as self-centered.</p><p>“People who can perceive the extraordinary often attract it, especially once they’re trained or become aware of their gift. It may be the underlying reason I felt I shouldn’t attend the memorial service. Now we know the anomalies had nothing to do with me. I consider it likely that you’re the object of surveillance.”</p><p>“So it could be my parents, or Pietro.”</p><p>“Those in the Astral Plane usually visit, if they’re going to, relatively soon after death,” Strange explained. “Natasha Romanov would be more likely.”</p><p>Wanda sighed. “I have trouble thinking of her as dead, for some reason, even after we had that whole ceremony. She was certainly strong-willed. I could totally see her making the effort to check on me.” She looked Strange in the eye. “You might think I’m crazy, but I also have to wonder if it’s Vision. I would like to believe he had a soul. Some sort of consciousness that persisted beyond his separation from the Mind Stone.”</p><p>“That could be,” Strange said carefully. “It’s out of my expertise—the Mystic Arts I’ve studied were formulated over centuries, even millennia. An artificially created and animated being has traditionally been held to not possess a soul, but Vision was sui generis and much more advanced than golems and the like. Let’s just say it wouldn’t surprise me.”</p><p>“I guess the best thing to do is to let all this ride for awhile and gather more info. There’s a lot going on and I don’t feel up to a big push to figure everything out,” Wanda admitted.</p><p>Strange nodded. “I’m with you on that. We should be kind to ourselves.” He gave her a half smile. “We’re just getting over helping to save the universe. Let’s wait and see what turns up.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0059"><h2>59. A Secret</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Rating: Teen and Up<br/>Content note: none</p><p>T’Challa and Steve have a quiet chat before going to a New Year’s Eve party. Steve takes the opportunity to reveal a startling secret.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>T’Challa and Steve sat alone on the palace’s rooftop terrace drinking Teeling on the rocks, looking up at the stars and a three-quarter moon. It was the last day of 2023, according to the Gregorian calendar used by almost all nations. During its isolation, Wakanda had used a traditional calendar, but T’Challa’s government had adopted the international convention. To popularize the change, the king encouraged festivities on the eve of the worldwide new year. This would be the biggest celebration yet, since nearly half the population had been rescued from oblivion a few months before.</p><p>“This is very pleasant,” Steve said in careful Wakandan. “I am glad you suggested a quiet drink before your party.”</p><p>“I wanted us to be able to talk more openly than we could at a large gathering,” T’Challa responded. “I am most pleased to hear that you and Natasha are consolidating households.”</p><p>Steve grinned. “It makes me very happy. We chose my apartment on the west end of the guest hall. It has more exterior windows. The move is almost done because we have few possessions.”</p><p>“Another milestone for your relationship. Congratulations,” said the king, raising his glass.</p><p>“Thank you,” Steve responded, raising his in acknowledgement. He sipped and savored the fine whiskey. “You spoke of the gathering tonight. I am anxious about presenting myself as Holden. For three hours around many strangers, speaking Wakandan.”</p><p>The royal shindig would be held in a less-secure area of the palace. Matching his persona of an American contractor, Steve wore a button-down shirt, jacket, and slacks rather than the local styles he now favored. The king was in a long black tailored tunic embroidered in white.</p><p>“I appreciate that you and Ms. Sheen are willing to attend, despite the pressures,” T’Challa said. “If you did not show up, eyebrows would be raised. Many have heard about our resident Design Group consultants and curiosity is high. Your fluency and accent, especially as a white foreigner, is sufficient to impress even if you lapse occasionally into English.” He switched languages. “Let us speak your native tongue for now, so that our conversation is low-stress for you.”</p><p>“Thanks,” Steve replied with relief. “Currently if I speak another language more than two hours sustained, I start to overload. Not like Natasha—she can speak Wakandan all day.”</p><p>“I hope you both will be able to enjoy yourselves tonight. If nothing else, the food and drink will be delicious,” the king assured him.</p><p>“I’m probably worrying about nothing,” Steve conceded. “Although I wonder whether someone might be there that I’ve met before but isn’t in the know. Who might find my voice familiar.”</p><p>“I can think of only one person on the guest list who fits that description.” T’Challa sighed. “My mother. By whom I have been chastised.”</p><p>“Uh-oh.”</p><p>“She is rarely overtly critical toward me since I have become king. But she has made an exception.”</p><p>“What for?”</p><p>“She has not been invited to meet you and Kathryn, and she has heard through the—what plant signifies rumor?”</p><p>“Grapevine.”</p><p>“Through the grapevine that you two are interesting.”</p><p>“Leaving her out of the loop is an oversight,” Steve acknowledged.</p><p>“One that we must remedy forthwith. She plans to be at the celebration tonight; a brief encounter will be insufficient to mollify her, however. Could Holden and Sheen join us for tea tomorrow afternoon?” the king asked. “You both could employ a voice disguiser.”</p><p>“Certainly. If Kat has anything scheduled, I’m sure she’d clear her calendar for the queen mother. But I’m surprised you want us to maintain our aliases in front of Ramonda.”</p><p>T’Challa held up a hand palm up, then turned it over, a Wakandan gesture indicating ambivalence. “On one side, I would prefer not to divulge your identities. It would increase her annoyance because I did not previously inform her about this intrigue. On the other side, if I do not tell her now and she ever does find out, I will be in real trouble.”</p><p>“In my capacity as a royal adviser, I suggest you get it over with tomorrow,” Steve declared. “I can’t imagine that she poses any security risk.”</p><p>“She does not. She learned ironclad information discipline as a king’s wife. Though she will be disappointed to have to keep such fascinating intelligence to herself.” T’Challa shook his head. “I am still tempted to avoid the issue. She has no need to know. If we unmask you tomorrow I will hear for months about my failure to disclose sooner.”</p><p>Steve said nothing. He’d been about to urge T’Challa to bite the bullet and tell his mother the secret nonetheless. But the conversation reminded him of a revelation he had been avoiding, and he felt hypocritical.</p><p>T’Challa noticed Steve’s silence and serious air. “Does the prospect of meeting Ramonda cause you apprehension?”</p><p>“No, I welcome the chance to get to know her better. She was always cordial to us in the past, and I trust she’ll express irritation only to you, not Natasha and me. I’m thinking about something else.”</p><p>He contemplated the king for several seconds. Was it time to talk about what had been weighing on him? It wouldn’t be any fun, he thought, and we’re supposed to be celebrating. But they were alone, the subject had surfaced, and he had no doubt that T’Challa was the best person in his new life to confide in.</p><p>“I have a secret myself. To be honest, I have several, but one in particular I should probably disclose. In case something ever happens to me.”</p><p>“Why do you not tell Natasha?”</p><p>Steve shook his head. “I can’t. Not this one.”</p><p>“Is it something important that she would feel entitled to know?”</p><p>“Yes.”</p><p>T’Challa looked skeptical. “I would not want Natasha Romanov to discover that I had been keeping a big secret from her.”</p><p>“It would be extremely unpleasant if she found out. But it would be worse to tell her.”</p><p>“Why?”</p><p>Steve set his glass aside. “She’d think about it every day. It would worry her continually.”</p><p>“A disagreeable fact, or a risk that would cause anxiety?”</p><p>“A risk.”</p><p>“To whom?”</p><p>“To both of us. But it’s me she’d fret over.”</p><p>“So you wish to confide in me?” T’Challa asked.</p><p>“I do,” Steve said resolutely.</p><p>“I assume I am enjoined from revealing the secret to anyone.”</p><p>“Yes. Only in a limited circumstance should you disclose the truth. Once I tell you, you’ll understand.”</p><p>“Why do you choose me to share this?”</p><p>“Because I trust you,” Steve said plainly. “I regard you as a good friend, and you already keep multiple secrets for me and Nat, which I greatly appreciate. You are wise and balanced enough to put what I tell you in perspective. You’re capable of compassionate detachment, like the Buddhists talk about.”</p><p>T’Challa smiled faintly. “You flatter me.”</p><p>“I don’t think so.”</p><p>“All right. I will accept this charge. Someday I may ask you to return the favor.”</p><p>“It would be my privilege to be your confidant, should you require one,” Steve said seriously.</p><p>“Your speech has become more formal.”</p><p>“Yes. This feels heavy, especially because I’m keeping it from my partner.”</p><p>T’Challa took a drink and held up his glass. “Will I need more liquor?”</p><p>“Probably not. It’s complicated, so you’ll want to be reasonably sober.”</p><p>“Then you had better start.”</p><p>Steve proceeded to tell T’Challa about returning the Soul Stone to Vormir. The story was the same as he’d related to Natasha, right through his direct contact with the stone and his experience of communicating with it.</p><p>“And here comes the part where I . . . obfuscated a bit.”</p><p>“Where you lied,” said T’Challa flatly.</p><p>Steve winced. “By omission. But yes, I’m sure she’d regard it as a lie. The day I explained to her what happened, she interrogated me about an aspect of it, as I was afraid she would. I managed to deflect her enough so she accepted my incomplete version.”</p><p>“On which part did you dissemble?”</p><p>“In my ’negotiations,’ I offered to replace her as the sacrifice, and that offer was not taken. Which is absolutely true.”</p><p>“However?”</p><p>Steve sighed. “I gave her the impression that the stone demanded nothing further than being returned to its resting place. That’s not true. The stone <i>did</i> specify an exchange for restoring Natasha. She wouldn’t approve, to say the least, but I had no choice. I can’t overemphasize how much I wanted her to live.”</p><p>“I understand. But before you reveal the truth of the trade, I wish you to explain <i>how</i> she was revived.”</p><p>Steve told T’Challa how he’d been prompted to set the stone on Natasha’s body, and all that happened before he’d appeared with her in Wakanda. When Steve finished, the king was quiet for several moments, then shook his head.</p><p>“I can understand that such a great miracle would be dearly bought. What was the bargain you struck?”</p><p>“Here’s where things get weird.”</p><p>T’Challa raised an eyebrow. “Can this become any more bizarre?”</p><p>“It can,” Steve assured him. “Have you read Clint’s report on what he experienced up there?”</p><p>“I have.”</p><p>“So you know that Johann Schmidt was wormholed to Vormir in 1945 and became a sort of mouthpiece, or sentinel, for the Soul Stone.”</p><p>“Yes. A terrible fate, even if deserved. What I did not understand is how he is still there, or at least was ten years ago. Suspended animation between visitors?”</p><p>“No. What I’m about to relate is what the Soul Stone ‘told’ me, but not with language. While I held the stone, I was shown visuals, and other information just appeared in my mind.” Steve took a drink of whiskey before continuing.</p><p>“Schmidt was sent to Vormir by the Tesseract, which contained the Space Stone. Any interaction that took place between the two stones wasn’t disclosed to me. He was embedded in . . . an energy structure, I guess you could call it. It imprisoned him at the top of the mountain. Where he presumably can still be seen.”</p><p>“You say seen, not lives,” T’Challa noted.</p><p>“Depends how you define ‘live.’ I was shown that he remained trapped in the structure until he died, of radiation sickness and dehydration. That took awhile, given his extra stamina and radiological resistance. During that time his body was duplicated, but without the use of matter. Recreated within the energy structure after some sort of scanning process. Once his physical body ceased to function, the structure crumbled it into dust. What remains is a simulacrum, a sort of super holographic projection. From what I could gather, his actual consciousness is also implanted in it, including his memories. His spirit or soul or whatever still lives embedded in the hologram. The projection can move in a limited way but is confined to the area near the cliff. His guard post.”</p><p>“His consciousness cannot cross to the next world?”</p><p>“Right. He’s stuck there. Perpetually awake because he no longer has a body or brain that needs sleep. A ghost in a machine,” Steve said somberly.</p><p>“Despite his crimes, I feel sympathy for him. So many years alone as a shade of himself.”</p><p>“It’s not forever, at least. I learned that Schmidt wasn’t the first sentinel, nor the last. In fact, there have been many. Each simulacrum eventually fades, until a visitor who seeks the stone wouldn’t be able to hear or see it anymore because it’s become so faint. At some point before that happens, the stone arranges for the sentinel to be replaced. A candidate is found, chosen, abducted, whatever. I wasn’t informed about the selection process. When the new victim enters the energy structure—the holographic prison—the previous inmate is freed to move on, wherever a spirit goes.”</p><p>“In our beliefs, souls pass into a land of peace beyond the physical world. A modern term is the Astral Plane. I visited my ancestors there in spirit after ingesting the Herb.” T’Challa looked troubled. “Each sentinel must undergo the ordeal of slow death, replication, and entrapment.”</p><p>“That’s right. I was told that the longer the being—which could be from any intelligent species—physically survives in the structure, the more powerful the simulacrum will be. Therefore the longer it will take to diminish into uselessness. A normal human’s hologram might persist the equivalent of ten years or so. An enhanced individual like Schmidt would be a prime candidate, which is why he’s lasted so long. But at some point, sooner rather than later, his image will vanish. The stone needs a new sentinel.”</p><p>“I do not like where this narrative is going,” T’Challa said apprehensively.</p><p>“Me neither.” Steve closed his eyes and breathed deeply. “I agreed to replace Schmidt.”</p><p>T’Challa, horrified, hid his reaction behind a calm facade, not wanting to upset Steve any further. After a few moments, he asked gently, “Then how are you here now, my friend?”</p><p>Steve met T’Challa’s eyes again. “When I communicated with the stone, its consciousness probed my mind, but didn’t seem to have full access. I could craft my responses; it was a give and take. I showed the stone that if it revived Natasha, it must also ensure her safe passage. She would likely be unconscious after such an ordeal, or deeply confused and unable to function. I made a case that the process had to include getting her back to Earth or her restoration would be futile, incomplete—she’d just die again on that barren planet. So I needed to accompany her. I promised I’d return after making sure she was taken care of. It agreed.”</p><p>“I am surprised it believed you.”</p><p>“The stone emphasized strongly that there’s a contingency somehow programmed in. It warned that it would renege on Natasha’s revival if I reneged on my promise to return.”</p><p>“I have no idea how that would work, but it makes sense that the stone has an enforcement mechanism,” T’Challa said thoughtfully.</p><p>“Fortunately, I managed to hide my intention for <i>when</i> I’d come back.”</p><p>“And that was?”</p><p>“Not immediately. I’m pretty sure the stone didn’t know how I traveled there, and didn’t seem to care. My possession of a suit that can still make time hops means I can go to that moment whenever I want, or have to. What flashed through my mind, which the stone thankfully did not appear to notice, was that I could live elsewhere for several years before turning myself in. That was my plan when I returned from Vormir and headed to 1949. But after I was there awhile, I realized that the ability to return to 2014 Vormir at any time would let me avoid going back at all.”</p><p>“How?”</p><p>“The most likely scenario is that I will outlive Natasha,” said Steve. “Given my immune system and healing capacity, disease won’t get me. My recent exam confirmed that I’m aging at half the normal rate. Once she has passed on, the Soul Stone won’t be able to take back her life anymore, so it doesn’t matter if I don’t return to fulfill the promise.”</p><p>“You are likely right. But there are other possibilities.”</p><p>“The only way I could permanently renege would be to die elsewhere. So I figured the worst that could happen is for me to be killed in an accident or by violence.”</p><p>“Then Natasha’s life might be forfeit as well,” T’Challa pointed out.</p><p>“Yes. I could guarantee her safety from the stone’s vengeance by returning to Vormir, but she’s made it abundantly clear that she wants me around. My getting killed is unlikely, especially if I live quietly and safely. I believe even if that small chance comes to pass and we both die, the bargain would’ve been worthwhile. If I hadn’t made the deal, she’d have gained no more life whatsoever. If I left her now, she’d be devastated. So I stay, both for her and for myself.”</p><p>“I agree with your analysis,” T’Challa said. “Let me raise a possibility, however. You have said that no one completely understands your physiology—though Shuri is doing her best. If the efficacy of your serum ever fails, you may find yourself in mortal danger from illness or injury. Would you then tell Natasha the truth so she could put her affairs in order? If all this works the way you surmise, if you die, so does she.”</p><p>“It’s a sliver of a chance, far less than the odds of an accident. But if it happened, I would do whatever it took to put the suit on and get back to Vormir while I still could,” Steve said with conviction.</p><p>“And consign yourself to an awful fate?”</p><p>“To preserve her life for possibly decades more? Absolutely. I would do anything for her.”</p><p>“This is the potential circumstance that would cause Natasha the most worry,” T’Challa said, nodding sadly.</p><p>“Yes. I’m not too concerned because something would have to change radically for me not to outlive Nat. But you understand that she’d focus on the slim possibility of disaster. Which is why I can never tell her the real deal.”</p><p>“You wish for me to know all this so if you die and she dies or disappears as well, someone understands what happened?”</p><p>“Right. If I wrote it down, where would I hide it? I’m living with the world’s premier spy,” Steve pointed out.</p><p>T’Challa set his glass aside. “I will admit, Steve, your secret has caused me great unease. Although your assessment of the odds of the various scenarios seems accurate, the scale of the risk is dreadful.”</p><p>“I’m sorry to distress you. For me, the bad feeling waned rapidly once it sank in just how unlikely a negative outcome would be. It’ll be far to the back of your mind in no time.”</p><p>The king heaved a sigh. “I hope so. I also must wonder about the unforeseen.”</p><p>Steve shrugged. “That’s there no matter what. We’ve witnessed in the past several years how extreme strangeness can come out of left field. I rely on two things: One, the stone, by all reports, adheres to rules it agrees to, and I’m not technically violating them. Yet. Two, I’ve gotten away with this scheme for about nine months total, if you add up how long I was in the past and here in Wakanda. The situation seems stable. Why would anything change now?”</p><p>“I see your point, and will try to keep that in mind. It is very fortunate that you returned from 1949.”</p><p>“I agree, but why do you say so?”</p><p>“Had you remained in the past, even if you lived an extremely long life you would very likely have died before Natasha.”</p><p>Steve stared at him. “I . . . hadn’t actually put that together. You’re right.” He shook his head. “Time travel makes things so convoluted.”</p><p>T’Challa smiled. “Indeed. It is clearly to be avoided unless absolutely necessary. The whole situation shows that it was fated for you to return here. To be with her. And perhaps for other reasons.”</p><p>“What reasons?” Steve asked curiously.</p><p>“I do not know, actually; I speak from intuition. I feel strongly that you are where you are supposed to be at this time.” T’Challa raised his glass once again. “Let us put this secret to rest for the evening. And drink to a joyous and transformative new year for both of you.”</p><p>Steve raised his glass in turn. “Thank you. To a happy and prosperous 2024 for all.”</p><p>The two men finished their whiskeys. They headed side by side to the descending escalator and the imminent celebration of a bright future.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0060"><h2>60. Tea for Six</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Rating: Teen and Up<br/>Content Note: None</p>
<p>T’Challa bites the bullet and reintroduces his American friends to Ramonda. Shuri and Okoye are also invited to the meeting, and get to hear the (almost) full stories of Natasha’s revival on Vormir and awakening in Wakanda. The conversation reveals details about Steve and Natasha’s residence in Wakanda and the dynamics they affect.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>November 5, 2023</b>
</p>
<p>The woman lay with her eyes closed, surprised to find herself breathing. She felt her abdomen rising and falling, air passing through her nose, her lips resting against each other, her own weight on what felt like a bed beneath her. A soft thudding in her chest was matched by a pulse in her neck and the faint sound of a heartbeat in her ears. A barely discernible hum vibrated in the background, like the ventilation system of a building. A pleasant herbal scent was laced with a faintly antiseptic note she found odd. A sudden noise sounded like the squawk of a bird, muffled by walls.</p>
<p>She remembered taking a great fall, one she knew would be fatal, then floating unmoored through a silent starfield. The last thing she remembered was passing through a velvety darkness pulled by some sort of magical gravity. What was this new phase of the afterlife, that felt and sounded and smelled so much like regular earthly life?</p>
<p>Slowly her eyes opened. The light was dim but she could see a ceiling above her, finished with split bamboo. Carefully she turned her head to one side and the other, her neck muscles stiff and aching. She saw a wooden chair, sisal wall coverings, and a closed door. Nothing like what she’d imagined the “astral plane” to be. As her eyes adjusted, she examined the one metal object visible in the room, a stand with high-tech equipment attached. The back of one of the gadgets had a logo she recognized: the Wakandan script for WDG.</p>
<p>Clearly this was no afterlife, and it felt nothing like a dream. She was physically alive, which was both impossible and irrefutable. Her identity came rushing back. Natasha was warm and breathing and inside what felt like her own body, in a location she recognized.</p>
<p>Immediately she felt regret and loss. She’d been so free, calm, and content in death, after the shock and pain of slamming into the ground had quickly passed.</p>
<p>The obvious question that came to her awakening mind was how she could possibly be here. Somehow she’d been brought back to life and to Earth from Vormir. Natasha recalled her last moments on the barren planet, the visions she’d seen. The memory triggered an answer to her question.</p>
<p>It must have been him. Even without any actual clue, she had no doubt.</p>
<p>Other questions arose in the back of her mind. Did the time heist work? Which of her colleagues hadn’t made it through? Was the reversal of the Snap accomplished? Did Thanos somehow interfere?</p>
<p>But they were secondary issues. In that moment, she stopped lamenting her loss of the serenity of death. She’d been returned to a material world that, she was convinced, contained Steve Rogers, who had cared enough to perform some kind of miracle for her. She trusted she would see him again. That was enough to look forward to, in her second chance at life.</p>
<p>* * *</p>
<p>The group remained quiet as Natasha finished her story. She hadn’t told them the parts with her most intimate feelings, of course. Nonetheless they were mesmerized by her first-person account of traveling through the land of the dead and awakening in the land of the living.</p>
<p>It was teatime on New Year’s Day 2024 in the queen mother’s gracious, detached home on the palace grounds. Ramonda sat beside Natasha on a bench, T’Challa and Shuri on a similar seat across from them, and Steve and Okoye in side chairs. That morning, the king had finally agreed with Steve’s recommendation to come clean to his mother, one that was backed up by Nat. So that she wasn’t shocked by a big reveal, T’Challa had told Ramonda the straight story before the afternoon get-together. She’d been effusively welcoming to the foreigners, genuinely thrilled to learn Natasha was alive and Steve hadn’t left.</p>
<p>“My dear lady, what an amazing story,” Ramonda said, continuing in Wakandan. She set her honeybush tea, grown tepid in her cup as she’d listened spellbound to Natasha, down on the low table in front of them. “You bless us in its telling. But I am very curious: How exactly did it come to pass that you were returned to life and health?”</p>
<p>“I will defer to Steve, as everything I know is secondhand,” Nat said, turning to her man with a smile. Like their hosts, the American visitors wore semi-formal local clothing.</p>
<p>“Oh . . . I would be happy to speak about it, but I may not know enough Wakandan words,” Steve said. “I shared the story with his highness recently. Perhaps he should relate it instead?”</p>
<p>“Feel free to use English,” Ramonda said in that language. “I would much rather you tell it. If I rely upon my son I may never hear the full tale,” she added sweetly. Steve felt rather than saw T’Challa wince.</p>
<p>Obligingly Steve started the story. He realized that Okoye and Shuri had never heard the complete version either. The only part he glossed over was the exact content of his communication with the stone, and no one, thankfully, sought more details.</p>
<p>After he finished, Ramonda remarked, “I am proud that you chose to bring Ms. Romanov to Wakanda to recover. It is a testament to your trust in our discretion and our medical expertise.” She glanced approvingly at Shuri but not T’Challa, and the princess grinned. “I understand that at the moment you are serving as consultants to our government, which is a great benefit to our country,” the queen mother said.</p>
<p>“It is indeed,” Shuri said enthusiastically. “I have been wanting to tell you about a project the Design Group would like your help with,” added, turning to Steve. “Just this weekend we finished a sample of an improved transparent shielding material. Designed to be ‘Cap-proof’ and ‘Panther-proof.’ It would be useful and fun to test it for real.”</p>
<p>Steve and Natasha looked at one another befuddled. “Cap-proof? We don’t understand,” Natasha said.</p>
<p>Okoye chimed in. “I suppose no one has ever told you about this. Many years ago we began to classify personal-level military and defensive technologies according to their ability to resist defeat or breach by the original Avengers—and their associated tools. We included Black Panther as well. It started as an amusement, but the system provides a shorthand to classify various materials and mechanisms.”</p>
<p>T’Challa chuckled. “I get to do my best to destroy the Panther-proof prototypes. It is quite entertaining.”</p>
<p>“Really? So, for example, what’s Black Widow-proof?” Steve asked.</p>
<p>“Resists strikes from a fit and trained normal person—”</p>
<p>Natasha interrupted. “I’m normal?” she said incredulously.</p>
<p>Okoye shook her head and smiled. “You certainly are not. But by that I mean not physically enhanced. The designation also indicates the tested object does not fail if tased, or shot with pistols. We have formulated standards in kilos per square inch, ammunition caliber, and voltage and amperage.”</p>
<p>“If a technology, such as our capital dome, is designed to resist high-level threats such as missiles or bombs, it goes beyond this specification set,” Shuri clarified. She turned to Steve. “Cap-proof force standards are based on a strike from a running start at the top speed of which you are capable. And the item must be able to resist equal blows from a vibranium disk. Panther-proof is similar but must be able to resist penetration by vibranium blades. We have standards for Hawkeye’s suite of arrows, and a whole array for the Iron Man suit capabilities, including the unibeam. Systems and materials that reach very high standards for brute force resistance we call Hulk-proof. Many palace windows, including the ones in the guest hall, are designated Hulk- and Iron Man-proof.”</p>
<p>Natasha and Steve looked at each other and grinned. “That is hilarious,” she said. “No Thor-proof, though?”</p>
<p>“We never had enough data on the capabilities of his hammer to write standards,” Okoye conceded. “And it was a weapon only he could wield, so it seemed fruitless to include it. When we came up with this scheme we did not know about Vision’s ability, nor Steve’s.”</p>
<p>“We can fix that,” Nat said brightly. “Honey, why don’t you go fetch the thing from Asgard so the Design Group can do some tests?”</p>
<p>Everyone laughed as Steve shook his head, though he too was smiling. “I don’t think we should risk another timeline split so we can play with Mjolnir.”</p>
<p>“You’re such a wet blanket,” Natasha pouted.</p>
<p>“Responsibility is kind of my specialty,” he retorted with a grin.</p>
<p>“You do have quite the reputation for good character,” Ramonda said. She was bored with the discussion of technology and wished to get back to understanding these significant visitors. “This makes me wonder why you are so determined to distance yourself from your previous life.” She looked at Natasha. “You too. After years of establishing yourself as trustworthy and loyal to your adopted home, why have you gone to such lengths to remain incognito?”</p>
<p>“We stay underground so we don’t get drawn back into our previous positions,” Nat said. “Public opinion being what it is, we wouldn’t be allowed to quietly retire.”</p>
<p>“You desire to live a more peaceful existence?” asked the queen mother.</p>
<p>“Very much,” Natasha replied. “This is a unique opportunity for me to start over, do something different with my life while I’m still relatively young. I’m fortunate that Steve was also ready to make a decisive change.”</p>
<p>Ramonda turned to Steve. “You do not miss being an admired superhero?”</p>
<p>“Not in the slightest,” he said fervently. “I cherish being able to make my own role in life. Free from that shadow.”</p>
<p>Ramonda looked surprised, and T’Challa remarked, “The shadow is your own, however. You made Captain America what he is, what it is.”</p>
<p>“The initial design of the persona wasn’t my choice,” Steve pointed out. “I did mold it over time, with only partial success. Now Sam Wilson gets to do the same. And I get to stop.”</p>
<p>“If you do not wish to be Avengers, what are your plans?” the queen mother asked.</p>
<p>Steve answered, “His highness has been extremely generous in allowing us to remain here. Beyond continuing in the positions we’ve been hired for, we have no concrete plans yet. Including none to leave Wakanda in the foreseeable future.”</p>
<p>“We love it here,” Natasha added. “Steve is working on his art and learning Wakandan, and I’ve signed up for a class, and we hope to visit more of the country soon. We do have to reckon with the fact that we don’t exactly fit in.”</p>
<p>“What about the new disguise technology you used last night?” said Ramonda. “I understand from Shuri that it can go further, make you resemble a native Wakandan—of any tribe you choose.”</p>
<p>“That’s true,” Steve affirmed. “We’ve done a few trials. It’s remarkable—we’re able to walk around casually without drawing much attention. However, of the two of us only Natasha is a good enough linguist and actor to pull it off in a one-on-one situation. I hope to become fluent in Wakandan, but the greater challenge is body language. I’d have to learn to not walk and stand and gesture like an American white guy,” he said with a smile.</p>
<p>Ramonda smiled in answer, a little archly. “I concede that it would take some doing for you not to draw attention. No matter the color of your skin.”</p>
<p>Shuri spoke up. “Perhaps if you remain a few years, it is Wakanda that will change so that you feel accepted.”</p>
<p>Okoye nodded, adding, “In Birnin Zana, at least, most people are tolerant of foreigners, and curious about other cultures. As we become more integrated into the world community and international travel is commonplace, I believe the day will soon come when the presence of Mr. Holden and Ms. Sheen will be unremarkable.”</p>
<p>During this exchange, Ramonda saw a quick glance pass between her son and Rogers. It was not the first she’d noticed. They clearly knew one another well enough to communicate with subtle expressions. She was surprised, given the relatively short time the ex-Avenger had lived in their country. The king was careful about whom he was on intimate terms with; it was a hazard of royalty that she and T’Chaka had impressed upon him all his life. Her initial reaction was misgiving that T’Challa hadn’t cultivated one of his own countrymen to replace the confidant-turned-traitor W’Kabi. This was quickly crowded out by relief that he’d made a worthy friend, no matter his origin.</p>
<p>“I’m planning to participate in a cross-cultural experiment soon,” Natasha volunteered. “N’Talia turned me on to a twelve-week series of dance classes at Joe’s Gym. A survey of popular African dance styles from the last years before the Snap. I talked to Art Makeba, the co-owner, and we might add a couple free classes for me to demonstrate ballet fundamentals. See if there’s interest in learning intercontinental styles.”</p>
<p>“Really?” Steve asked in surprise. “I hadn’t heard that last part.”</p>
<p>“I talked to him about it last night at the party. I was going to get around to telling you—sometime. Maybe,” she said with a smirk.</p>
<p>“A woman is entitled to her secrets,” Ramonda said jestingly. Everyone laughed, though Steve managed only a forced chuckle.</p>
<p>“Art could retain you to teach self-defense classes,” Steve said, changing the subject. “He’s seen a little of what you can do.”</p>
<p>“If you were to offer classes in ‘Black Widow-style’ martial arts, you would no doubt do very well financially,” Okoye said. “Women would line up to learn.”</p>
<p>“Becoming a ballet and self-defense instructor and explicitly referencing herself. Wouldn’t that be a little on the nose?” asked Steve.</p>
<p>“I think she could get away with it,” T’Challa said, then looked at Natasha. “Being widely believed dead is an advantage, and you are so popular here that it would not surprise me if someone else had the idea to market a Black Widow class. You might want to trademark the name within Wakanda to preclude it, in fact.”</p>
<p>“No, no, do not encourage this!” Shuri exclaimed in mock horror. “I do not want my premier consultant to become so busy. If they want to market such instruction, <i>he</i> can do it through ClubCap. ‘Learn to fight like a super soldier!’” she said as though recording an advertisement, pumping a fist through the air. Everyone laughed.</p>
<p>“Our friend here is less dead than his companion, however,” Ramonda said. “People might begin to suspect something is up.”</p>
<p>“Indeed. And I do not wish to lose <i>my</i> adviser,” said T’Challa.</p>
<p>His mother looked puzzled. “I thought ‘Mr. Holden’ was a consultant to Shuri?”</p>
<p>“He is, but I also claim his time as a sounding board and reviewer for certain policies. And as a personal trainer.”</p>
<p>Ramonda raised an eyebrow slightly but made no comment. She realized another likely reason that T’Challa and Rogers had become close. He was one of the few who could understand to her son’s peculiar responsibilities and burdens as Black Panther—what the outside world called an enhanced individual. She’d been concerned because her son was subdued, even subtly anxious, since he Returned. She was glad he now had a close friend; she’d been apprehensive he would gravitate toward the soon-to-be-released W’Kabi out of loneliness.</p>
<p>“I’m so grateful to be living in Wakanda,” Natasha emphasized. “We’re determined to make the most of this enormous change we’ve taken on, because leaving our previous lives comes with some depressing side effects. Neither of us have blood family, but we greatly miss the old friends we were closest to.”</p>
<p>“It must certainly be wrenching,” the queen mother said kindly. She thought fleetingly again of her son’s lost friendships as a result of the Snap, including Nakia—she had Remained and during the Interim had acquired a steady companion.</p>
<p>“Do you plan to contact your friends in the future?” she asked the visitors.</p>
<p>“We’ve talked about it,” Nat said, looking sidelong at Steve. “I’ve informed two friends—a married couple—that I’m alive, but I’ve been careful not to reveal my location, and they have no idea Steve is around.”</p>
<p>“If we do reach out, it won’t be for awhile. Maybe years,” Steve said. “Letting everyone move past the impulse to draw us back into the security and crime-fighting business. Allowing time to reorient TAO so it doesn’t depend on us. Right now, we’re taking our new life one day at a time. We don’t know where we’ll be in a year.”</p>
<p>“Or six months. Or even one month,” Nat said with a shrug.</p>
<p>Though they covered it immediately, Ramonda noticed that T’Challa and Okoye seemed stricken at Natasha’s words. Apparently in their short tenure the Americans had more than solidified their welcome.</p>
<p>Shuri felt no need to obscure her alarm. “Oh Natasha, do not say such a thing! We have so much wonderful work to do together. Say you will stay, please,” she begged.</p>
<p>“Now, Shuri, do not harass our guests,” her mother chided. “It is certainly to be hoped that they will remain with us. At some point, however, they may wish to go home, even if they choose not to reveal themselves.”</p>
<p>“Or perhaps they will decide they are already home,” said T’Challa quietly. He kept his eyes on his teacup.</p>
<p>Shuri looked at her brother. Steve and Natasha looked at each other. And Okoye smiled faintly to herself.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I didn’t see anything online about whether Nakia was Snapped out of existence or not, so I’m making her a Remainer who moved on to a new relationship in the Interim.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0061"><h2>61. Get Out</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Rating: Teen and Up<br/>Content note: None</p>
<p>Natasha conducts a sparring session with Okoye, Shuri, and Kola. There are undercurrents of unease about W’Kabi’s release from prison and the tensions caused by the massive return of people in the Blip.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Extra points to anybody who figures out the little “inside” joke in the chapter title…</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The exercise studio in the secure area of the palace was flooded with late-morning light, reflecting off the pale floors of processed bamboo. The “dojo” was much smaller than the second floor area at Joe’s Gym, but Okoye had suggested they hold their sparring match there for its convenience.</p>
<p>“Perfectly adequate for us,” Natasha said with satisfaction as she surveyed the space. “We don’t have our juiced-up boys today to bounce off the walls and ceiling.”</p>
<p>“Where <i>is</i> Mr. Holden?” asked Ebedu Kola, swinging his arms to warm up. The others were stretching out on the mats.</p>
<p>“He went running with my brother,” Shuri reported from the floor. “That takes a few hours if they want to push themselves a little bit.”</p>
<p>The four fighters wore long-sleeved T’s and martial-arts trousers. Tumeli had been invited but was spending time with her daughter and parents, who’d come to town unexpectedly. Okoye had happened to mention the session to Kola and he’d begged to be included in Tumeli’s place. His upper-body strength had declined with age and he was eager to practice techniques used by people who commanded less brute force.</p>
<p>Natasha explained her plan for the training. “Unless we have another war in Wakanda, God forbid, the likeliest fight scenario for any of us would be indoors. So let’s work in close quarters. I know you’re accomplished martial artists. I’ll show you moves that have worked well for me over the years, and I hope to pick up some tricks from you too.”</p>
<p>“To contemplate a fight without my gauntlets makes me feel vulnerable,” Shuri admitted. “But I don’t walk around with them normally. I need to brush up on weaponless martial arts.”</p>
<p>“It’s a good idea, and good exercise too. Today’s series will be front attacks and facing fights. At another session we’ll work on sneak attacks. Match boundary is the size of these mats,” Nat said, pointing to a three-meter-square area. “Pretend you’re in a hallway or small room.”</p>
<p>Shuri and Kola started first, after a simultaneous salute. Kola led with his arms while Shuri relied on kicks, though at first neither landed a blow. Both were tentative, not having sparred since their Return, and much of the first minute consisted of them circling warily around each other.</p>
<p>“Step it up,” Natasha chided. “Don’t be afraid to make mistakes. The first error I call out will make me happy—at least you’ll be doing something!”</p>
<p>“It is difficult to strike at our princess,” Kola said, a little sheepishly.</p>
<p>“Leave that attitude outside the door,” Nat insisted. “In this room we have no rank. Except me. I’m the instructor,” she said with a grin.</p>
<p>“I will make it easier for you, Mr. Kola,” Shuri said, and launched a whirling kick toward his midsection. But with that warning and her tepid commitment to the move, Kola was able to grab her foot and use her momentum to flip her sideways. She hit the mat with a yelp of surprise, but rolled and leaped to her feet quickly.</p>
<p>“Stand down,” Natasha ordered. “Great, we’re getting somewhere. Let’s shake it out and talk a bit. Then you’ll dive back into it and get combinations going. Good move, Kola. Shuri, how could you have avoided what happened?”</p>
<p>The four critiqued the exchange for a minute, then Shuri and Kola squared off again and sparred with vigor.</p>
<p>“Close in more,” Nat called out. “Avoid the face, but I want to see elbows thrown. Bring it!”</p>
<p>Shuri acted on the direction, moving in with a succession of fist strikes—and a couple of the requested elbows. Kola parried well but more than one blow landed, which would’ve hurt save for the fact that Shuri was pulling punches. Okoye nodded with satisfaction as she saw the princess gain confidence with her successes.</p>
<p>Kola still seemed loath to target Shuri’s torso, but took advantage when she turned a little too far after a shin-kick combo. He struck the back of her knee, bringing her halfway down, then clipped the side of her head with the flat of his hand. It might have resulted in a knockout had he been hitting full force. Shuri didn’t let the failure stop her—she sprang up and jabbed at Kola’s chest with a palm-forward move. He parried it well, though it struck him a glancing blow.</p>
<p>Natasha looked at the numbers emanating in blue from her new bracelet. She didn’t yet have an advanced set of kimoyo beads, but the timekeeper was a start. “Stand down, fighters. That was almost six minutes. Shake it out, get some water, and we’ll break it down.” As the fighters complied, she smiled to herself. It had been years since she’d acted as a fight master, but it seemed to be coming back to her like riding a bicycle.</p>
<p>For the next hour they sparred, switching partners and approaches. When Natasha wasin the match, she kept up a running commentary explaining her actions. Okoye had never seen her demonstrate close-in fighting and was incredibly impressed.</p>
<p>For the last twenty minutes they cut down the match area to one mat. It was like fighting in a closet. In the final bout, Natasha squared off with Kola. Despite his best efforts at defense, she rained a relentless succession of body blows on him while parrying almost all his strikes. When Shuri called time, Nat stepped back and grinned as Kola blinked in confusion, panted with exertion, and rubbed his battered chest.</p>
<p>“Good job keeping me away from your soft bits, but imagine what it would feel like if you got hit that many times about twice as hard,” Nat said. “Each of those strikes isn’t very impressive alone. But put a few dozen together and you’re going to knock your opponent off balance, shock his system, and distract him until you can see a chance to bust him somewhere it really hurts.” She looked around at the weary participants. “I think we’re done for the day. Let’s have a rest.”</p>
<p>After they all collapsed onto the mats, Natasha turned to Okoye. “I suggest you get a wing chun master to add a module to the martial arts training, at least for War Dogs and other security personnel.”</p>
<p>“I do not see why we need to import a teacher. You will do,” Okoye said with a chuckle.</p>
<p>“Eh, I don’t need another job,” Natasha demurred. “I’m happy to work with friends like you guys, and pitch in when Steve conducts workshops for the king, but I think I’ll limit my sparring and martial-arts instruction to that.”</p>
<p>“Does his highness need volunteers to spar with him anymore, now that he has Mr. Holden around?” Kola asked.</p>
<p>“T’Challa is definitely happy to have someone he can let loose on,” said Shuri.</p>
<p>“The matches are of great benefit to the other participants, so I believe his highness will continue them nonetheless,” Okoye said.</p>
<p>“Desta Mutombo said that watching the two of them fight is entertaining,” Shuri added.</p>
<p>Natasha smiled as she recalled the spectacle of the Steve-T’Challa match at Joe’s. “Quite,” she said. “Sparring with them is also fun. They keep you on your toes, though you know you’re going to lose. It reminds you that you do <i>not</i> want to meet an enhanced person in a dark alley without an effective weapon. If you do, the objective isn’t to win. It’s to hold him off long enough to give you a chance to run like hell.”</p>
<p>“I heard you went a full five minutes with T’Challa. You even gave him a fall,” Shuri said eagerly.</p>
<p>“True on the first point. On the second, Steve and I were double-teaming him when I managed that. I don’t take excessive pride in either. He was pulling his punches exceedingly —they both do when training with normies. A real fight is a whole different affair. No doubt you’ve seen Black Panther unleash himself in battle.”</p>
<p>The Wakandans nodded solemnly. “And against evildoers in other situations,” Okoye said.</p>
<p>“So you know what I’m talking about. Same with Steve. Sometimes I’d get frustrated with him during an operation because he’d ‘waste’ time when taking out guards or whatever. That’s because he tries to knock ‘em cold, not kill or maim, and he’s good at calibrating. His MO was to incapacitate. But if there’s no choice but to mow through people—or whatever—his fights don’t last long. If there’s an objective that can’t be met without bloodshed, he’ll do what’s required. He always feels terrible about it after we get home, though.”</p>
<p>Shuri was puzzled. “He appears so calm and capable, as though nothing bothers him. After the terrible Battle of Earth, he did not miss a beat—he directed everything that needed to be done. Brought order out of the chaos.”</p>
<p>Nat shrugged. “He’s functional as long as he needs to be. In combat, the cognitive enhancements help him focus and keep emotions sidelined. Later, though, he pays the price. By temperament, he’s actually not well suited for the job. One reason it’s a former job.”</p>
<p>“Are you well suited?” Kola asked curiously.</p>
<p>She looked at him levelly. “I was, because I was forced to be. Now, I’m not sure. My brain seems to work differently now. I don’t know whether I can still switch over to induced sociopathy. There are some questions I’d rather not put to the test.”</p>
<p>Natasha looked at Okoye, sitting crosslegged and staring at the floor, her face tense. Her accustomed serenity was askew. She’d also been distracted and less effective than usual during the sparring. “General, are you all right?” Nat asked. “Did I whack you too hard in that last combination?”</p>
<p>“No. My mood has nothing to do with the match,” Okoye said, meeting her eyes. “I am thinking about questions that <i>I</i> wish had never been put to the test.”</p>
<p>Shuri and Kola both looked sympathetic; they knew what was bothering her.</p>
<p>Okoye sighed. “W’Kabi was released from prison at midday today.”</p>
<p>“Oh, my,” Natasha responded. “Is he going back to the borderlands?”</p>
<p>“He is planning to stay in Birnin Zana for the time being,” Kola said grimly. “He is a distant relative of mine, and we have been acquainted since he was a young man. I spoke with him last month and tried to dissuade him. Now that he has served his sentence, he is convinced he can quickly return to the good graces of the king.”</p>
<p>“We have reiterated that he is not allowed into secure areas,” said Shuri. “However, he has many friends who work in the palace, so he may be able to talk his way in. Mother suggested strongly to T’Challa that he arrange to be outside the city most of the day. With a friend who has no reason to be sympathetic toward W’Kabi.”</p>
<p>“This is why I wanted to stay here for our training, rather than go to public places,” Okoye said to Nat. “If he cannot get to his highness, he may try to see me. He represents no danger, but a meeting would be awkward at best and . . . excruciating at worst.”</p>
<p>“I have failed to persuade him that his ‘early release’ is due to the blanket policy, not favoritism,” Kola said. “He does not seem to grasp the magnitude of what happened in the Snap, and the difficulties of the Return.”</p>
<p>Natasha shook her head. “Some people seem unable to get it. Wakanda is coping better than most countries with the influx of people, but it’s still hard.”</p>
<p>“Tumeli could not join us because of a Blip-related issue,” Okoye noted, relieved for the conversation to take a different tangent. “Her daughter was Snapped but her parents both Remained, so now they are five years more aged while the granddaughter is still a very active four-year-old. It is not what they planned for when they agreed to raise the girl. Tumeli’s father is in the city today for medical care. She must make further arrangements to aid her parents so she does not have to resign from the Dora and take over.”</p>
<p>“I feel very lucky that my wife did not find another man while I was gone,” Kola confided. “She said it was a near thing, actually. There were suitors. Had the situation lasted much longer, she would have moved on.”</p>
<p>“Many people who lost partners re-sorted themselves. As happened with Nakia,” Shuri said quietly.</p>
<p>“I have taken time from my military duties to assist his highness with the social and political issues of the Return,” Okoye said. “We have problems within the armed forces related to it, but we are fortunate to be at peace currently. More pressing are housing, production of food and goods, legal tangles for individuals, and employment. We will eventually ramp up both private and government capacity to reintegrate billions of people again. But there will be displacement and scarcity for some time.”</p>
<p>“I heard there’s been a rash of suicides, in many countries,” Natasha said bleakly. “It’s a mirror of the time after the Snap when people killed themselves after families and spouses disappeared. Or out of general despair. Now some who Blipped back are losing it because loved ones died or started other relationships.”</p>
<p>“Some of us Returners feel as though we are intruding, ‘in the way,’ or unwanted. A different kind of despair,” Shuri said.</p>
<p>“It is also strange for people who took on different roles after so many died. Now that everyone is back, some Remainers do not wish to return to the old arrangement,” Kola said thoughtfully. “I see it with my wife, who is no longer content to let me make decisions as I was used to.”</p>
<p>Okoye nodded. “This phenomenon is widespread, made more prominent by the imbalance of who died. Government records show that six years ago, about fifty-two percent of Wakandans identified as women. During the Interim that went up to sixty-four. We are told it was a fluke of randomness that more men perished in our country, or took their own lives. Now the proportion has gone back to about fifty-three percent female.”</p>
<p>“Wow, that’s the largest nationwide skew I’ve heard about,” Nat said, surprised.</p>
<p>“My brother said he has been unable to convene a meeting of the Tribal Council. There is controversy in some tribes as to which elder is now the appropriate one to hold the position of representative,” Shuri reported.</p>
<p>“And the general and the queen mother had to step aside from national leadership when his highness reappeared,” Natasha pointed out.</p>
<p>“Well, that was no problem,” Okoye said, waving a hand dismissively. “We were caretakers for the rightful king. We were overjoyed to see him—and the princess—alive again, and thankful that the ‘Blip’ clarified the succession of government.”</p>
<p>“How do you mean?” Nat asked.</p>
<p>“The queen mother and I took the reins only because there was no one else obvious to do so—no one from the royal line was available. At some point in the future, we would have needed to transfer power to others, but Wakanda’s only established procedures are heredity and single combat of male warriors.”</p>
<p>Kola grinned. “The problem was solved for you—and for us—by the great good fortune of our king’s return.”</p>
<p>Natasha and Okoye smiled back at him, but Shuri pretended to be distracted by a parrot that had landed in a tree outside the window. She then looked down at her kimoya beads and manipulated one.</p>
<p>“This has been a most helpful training session and an interesting discussion, but I must go now,” said Shuri, scrambling to her feet. “I promised Mother I would stop by during the noon hour to see her.”</p>
<p>“I too should go change. I have a watch to stand in less than an hour and need to find some food,” Kola said. He sounded regretful and got up slowly.</p>
<p>The other two also stood. As the highest-ranking person, Shuri saluted, with a sunny smile. “Thank you, Ms. Sheen, for lending us your expertise. I look forward to the next session!” She and Kola waved and exited the dojo.</p>
<p>Natasha and Okoye stood looking toward the door. “Well, that was interesting,” Nat said. “The discussion of T’Challa’s leadership made the princess flee, apparently. She was lying about being late to see her mama.”</p>
<p>Okoye raised an eyebrow. “Agreed. I have no insight into her state of mind on this matter. Perhaps it was the reference to the combat challenge. The tradition always made her uncomfortable, and the one she witnessed was traumatic.”</p>
<p>“Or it could be some political rumor or speculation she’s heard. Even in a well-run country like this one, there are factions and intrigues. I’m trained to notice the undercurrents and suss them out—useful in the spy biz.”</p>
<p>Okoye asked, “Do you have us analyzed yet?”</p>
<p>“Not really,” Nat said. “Haven’t been here that long, and I’m trying <i>not</i> to be in the spy biz anymore. Just observing.” She looked searchingly at Okoye and speculated, “Maybe she’s gotten antsy about W’Kabi and wanted to check if he’s been seen or heard from since he got out.”</p>
<p>The general nodded. “That could be the case. T’Challa has mentioned that she never much approved of W’Kabi. Though she was civil to him and did not directly express disdain—at least not in front of me.”</p>
<p>“Are you OK about the situation? You could come over to my place and hang out this afternoon. Or we could go relax on the terrace,” offered Nat.</p>
<p>“I . . . have so much to do. It would be irresponsible to take the afternoon off.” Okoye stared out the window. The day had grown cloudy with the arrival of a front, and rain was forecast.</p>
<p>“You’re not going to get much done anyway, I think. Steve has a decent bottle of whiskey in the cupboard. Let’s declare it an early happy hour.”</p>
<p>“All right,” Okoye conceded. She gave Natasha a faint smile. “I do not think I will be able to actually be happy, but perhaps we can achieve ‘avoiding sad.’”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0062"><h2>62. King of Pain</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Rating: Teen and Up<br/>Content Note: None</p>
<p>T’Challa discloses to Steve his torment over a looming decision that has been keeping him up at night.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Almost there! Come on, I’ll race you to the bench!”</p>
<p>Steve was a stride ahead of T’Challa as they neared the top of Mount Milara. They’d run up from the base even faster than on their last outing, and the king was flagging. He rallied to his trainer’s challenge, and as the picnic table came into view they were pounding along the dusty road at almost sixty kilometers an hour.</p>
<p>T’Challa skidded a few meters to a stop by the near bench. He ducked reflexively when he saw Steve soaring past him. The American had converted his last few strides into a running leap and cleared the stone benches, table, and the man next to them.</p>
<p>Steve’s feet hit the ground and he spent his remaining momentum in a front flip. He stuck the landing and whirled around. “Looks like you beat me,” he said jovially.</p>
<p>The king leaned over the table, arms propping him up, then groaned and collapsed onto the bench. “You let me win, Rogers,” he panted.</p>
<p>Steve grinned. “Maybe a little bit.”</p>
<p>“And then you committed acrobatics to taunt me.”</p>
<p>“Just feeling exuberant, your highness.”</p>
<p>“You are lucky I am exhausted or I would throw you off the side of the mountain for this insolence,” T’Challa growled with faux menace.</p>
<p>“Yeah, right. You and what army?”</p>
<p>“I do have one, you know!”</p>
<p>The two men dissolved into laughter as Steve came over and flopped himself down on the opposite bench. They wore the same exercise gear as before, but now both carried hydration packs, from which they slurped noisily. As usual, the enhanced pair quickly recovered from the strenuous run, their breathing steadying and slowing within a minute.</p>
<p>For T’Challa, the exhilaration of the exercise faded equally fast. He gazed toward the capital, particularly magnificent today as the usual humid haze cleared ahead of the forecast cold front.</p>
<p>Steve noticed that T’Challa’s earlier dark mood had reemerged, as though clouds had gathered over him. He turned around and contemplated the view too rather than trying to revive their banter.</p>
<p>“Our Golden City. So very beautiful,” T’Challa mused, somehow making the simple sentiment ominous.</p>
<p>Steve sensed the king wanted to discuss something important but was hesitant to broach the subject. “You seem rather subdued,” he ventured. “Is it because of W’Kabi?” Dambu had clued Steve in the day before about the traitor’s imminent release and intention to track down his royal friend.</p>
<p>“That is a small part. I am unhappy with his intransigence, though the situation’s resolution is clear, if unpleasant,” T’Challa said. “There is a much larger issue that weighs on me.”</p>
<p>Steve waited in patient silence for his companion to unburden himself. T’Challa was a deliberate man, and there was no need to push him.</p>
<p>“I find myself invoking your promise to be my confidant sooner than I had envisioned,” T’Challa said finally, still looking out at the city.</p>
<p>“Of course. I’ll keep anything you tell me to myself, to whatever degree you want.”</p>
<p>The king sighed. “I continue to struggle with my suspicion that I am in the wrong position.”</p>
<p>“You mentioned that in November. You still feel the same way?”</p>
<p>T’Challa looked him in the eye. “More so.”</p>
<p>“Does anyone agree with you?”</p>
<p>“None that I know of, though some may believe so covertly. My mother and Okoye have been entirely gracious about ceding power. But we are in a new era and the old methods of determining leadership of Wakanda no longer make sense to me.”</p>
<p>“You’re referring to being a hereditary sovereign.”</p>
<p>“Yes. In addition, a tribal representative may challenge and replace the ruler through single combat. That is no better. Both concepts are archaic and backward. They have also been superseded. For more than five years our government was administered by capable people who were neither of the royal line nor tribal leadership, and they did not seek power through violence. Our country’s first female leaders did more than caretake, though that is what they insist. They brought Wakanda intact through the disappearance of half our people, including myself and Shuri.”</p>
<p>“The queen mother was head of state and Gen. Okoye acted kind of like a prime minister, right?” Steve asked.</p>
<p>“Correct. Okoye also continued to lead the armed forces and represented us internationally, as an Avenger. Wakanda’s debt to her is incalculable.”</p>
<p>“I heard nothing but positive things during the Interim from Natasha, and she was close to Okoye. Despite the formidable challenges, it appeared from afar that the regime was successful and popular.”</p>
<p>“It was, according to every report and briefing I have read. Under this enlightened leadership, our people did more than cope with their grief and disruption. Many nations managed only to tread water, but Wakanda made progress, both domestically and as a member of the world community.”</p>
<p>“So, the ad hoc government did an admirable job. Why is this a problem?” Steve probed.</p>
<p>“To me, it seems unfair to resume control. Do you not see why?” T’Challa pleaded with Steve to understand his dilemma. “I gained my position through accident of birth, and retained it by beating a good man in a fight. I lost it through the barbarous mechanism of being defeated and nearly killed by N’Jadaka. Because of his overreach and my lineage, most remained loyal to my faction in the war to reclaim the throne. But since then it has been well proven that I am unnecessary for my country to thrive.”</p>
<p>“You’ve accused me of underestimating myself. You’re doing the same thing. But say for the sake of argument that’s true. What’s the alternative?”</p>
<p>“I could step aside as king. Return the leadership to Okoye and Ramonda.”</p>
<p>Steve blinked. “You’re seriously considering such a huge move?”</p>
<p>“Why not retain the established leadership of the past several years? They did an excellent job and were beloved of the people.”</p>
<p>“If you abdicated, what would you do afterward?”</p>
<p>“My chief contribution would be to continue as Black Panther. Without a supply of the Heart-Shaped Herb there can be no other anointed until a synthetic is perfected,” T’Challa pointed out. “I could also relieve Okoye of the burden of directing the armed forces. I believe I would be well accepted in that role.”</p>
<p>“It’s a bold reform, especially now when there’s still so much upheaval,” Steve cautioned.</p>
<p>“I fear that if I wait, so as not to further destabilize the country, I will solidify the status quo. When everything has settled down, it may be more difficult to make change than to do it now while society is in flux.”</p>
<p>“Your heart is in the right place, but this won’t be a popular move.”</p>
<p>T’Challa nodded. “I realize that. My strong feeling on this question reminds me of the way I regarded the twin issues of N’Jadaka and Wakandan isolation. The second time I visited the Astral Plane, after receiving the healing dose of the Herb, I rebuked my father in front of other ancestors. I forcefully expressed why I should retake the throne and use Wakanda’s advantages to help all humanity, rather than cause harm as Killmonger advocated. It was very difficult for me to tell my revered forebears their isolationism was wrong. I was only able to do it because I was convinced the change was necessary and, above all, right.”</p>
<p>“You were able to dismiss your doubts.”</p>
<p>“I had no doubts,” T’Challa responded firmly. “And, to be honest, I do not now. If I force the country to find a new form of government, a new way to choose leaders, I will face resistance, especially among the elders. But I believe it is righteous to turn away from an obsolete and unjust system.”</p>
<p>“It’s not merely a yes or no question. It’s also how and when,” Steve insisted. “Would Ramonda and Okoye even want to be in charge again? They may have been relieved to step aside.”</p>
<p>“That is certainly possible.”</p>
<p>“You could approach them, determine whether they’ll agree to take over. If they refuse, I’d urge you to wait to abdicate until you formulate a new governing plan. Even if you don’t get everyone on board right away, you should seek buy-in from a critical mass of key officials and leaders.”</p>
<p>“This contingency is reasonable. But you have skipped ahead to strategy. Do you not wish to weigh in on <i>whether</i> I should abdicate?” T’Challa examined Steve’s demeanor for clues about his view of the matter.</p>
<p>“Unnecessary. You’ve determined it’s the right thing, after thorough deliberation. I can see that sooner or later you will make this reform happen. As an adviser, it’s my job to help you accomplish your goals, whatever they are.”</p>
<p>“That is not your only role. I respect your moral compass, and very much want to know your opinion.”</p>
<p>“For the record, then: I agree with you, and I’m behind you all the way.”</p>
<p>Relieved, T’Challa responded, “Good. Were you not, it would be a serious blow to my confidence.”</p>
<p>“What will you do if you approach the former leaders and they don’t consent to form an interim government?” Steve asked.</p>
<p>“If neither wishes to participate, that is a serious hurdle to overcome.”</p>
<p>“Their executive model was put together in crisis anyway. You and Shuri disappeared and there was no precedent for what to do,” Steve said.</p>
<p>“We must formulate better methods than our traditions have given us.”</p>
<p>“We meaning who?”</p>
<p>T’Challa answered after a moment’s thought. “The Queen Mother, Okoye, the Tribal Council, and I. With input from my adviser. And from Shuri, as a representative of our youth and someone likely to become prominent in the future.”</p>
<p>“If this is a new era, a wider selection of people should determine the country’s government and leadership,” asserted Steve.</p>
<p>T’Challa nodded. “Yes, I see. We could include the pan-tribal regional councils that Okoye and Ramonda established.”</p>
<p>“Or all citizens,” Steve suggested.</p>
<p>T’Challa stared at him, considering the implications. “You mean some sort of democratic system.”</p>
<p>“Yes. Wakanda was forced to break tradition, and it worked out well. Is it time to make the leap to self-determination?”</p>
<p>“I do not know whether Wakandans are prepared for that.”</p>
<p>“Given the education and sophistication of your people, I’m surprised they haven’t demanded it already,” Steve said. “Especially now that isolation has been ended for some time. Probably there’s been no serious movement for it because the royal leadership has been competent, ethical, and popular as long as most people remember.”</p>
<p>“There is also ‘Wakandan exceptionalism,’” T’Challa noted. “We remained purposely isolated for many reasons, but our sense of superiority fed into it. That included our stable and benign government.”</p>
<p>“I’m biased in favor of a democratic republic with wide suffrage, as you might expect,” admitted Steve.</p>
<p>“No doubt you are accustomed to extolling the American system, given your former position.”</p>
<p>“In the 21st century I was never asked or encouraged to endorse anything political, even as basic a concept as voting. If I advocate democracy, it’s because I believe it’s the right thing,” Steve insisted.</p>
<p>“If I may be so forward: your native country frequently does not live up to the ideals you espouse.”</p>
<p>“The USA’s shortcomings don’t require me to reject its better principles,” Steve said. “I’d love to see a nation get democracy right. Designing a system from the ground up is a great opportunity and Wakanda is well positioned to make it work.”</p>
<p>“Possibly. I observe, however, that it costs you little to encourage us to experiment.” T’Challa’s jaw tightened and he now gazed fixedly into the distance.</p>
<p>“I’m an outsider who doesn’t have a real stake in the outcome?”</p>
<p>“One might say that. You have made no long-term commitment here.” T’Challa spoke with an edge.</p>
<p>“It’s true I’ve only been living in your country two months. Natasha and I are still figuring out our future. But you did ask for my opinion,” Steve said gently.</p>
<p>T’Challa glared at him briefly before breaking eye contact and taking a deep breath. “Touché. My taking offense is unwarranted. I apologize.”</p>
<p>“Don’t worry about it. We’re good.”</p>
<p>The king stood and walked over close to the precipice. Why did I antagonize a friend and mentor for no reason? he asked himself. He strove to rein in his chaotic emotions.</p>
<p>T’Challa stood at the cliff’s edge staring toward the city, but Steve could tell he wasn’t really seeing it—he was lost inside his own head.</p>
<p>Finally T’Challa untangled his thoughts enough to continue. “I am grateful to have Returned, but I do not benefit my country by remaining as king. I have displaced those who were the saviors of Wakanda.” He turned and looked at Steve. “Family and friends who Remained already grieved my loss. Perhaps it would be better for all if I removed myself from the equation.”</p>
<p>“I believe you’re wrong about that,” Steve said, coming over to stand beside him. He wasn’t exactly worried that T’Challa would do anything rash, but he thought the man needed someone close.</p>
<p>“I feel alone,” the king admitted.</p>
<p>“You have your mother, your sister, friends like Okoye and Dambu. They would do anything for you.”</p>
<p>“But I cannot talk to them about this. Yesterday I made an oblique attempt with Shuri; I speculated jokingly about what profession I might take up if I were not king. Football player? Stunt performer in films? She did not laugh and changed the subject quickly. I am sure it would upset her if I expressed my . . . doubts.” T’Challa had closed his eyes and his voice dropped almost to a whisper.</p>
<p>“I understand,” Steve said quietly. “I’ve never been in your exact position, of course, leader of a whole country. But I know what it’s like to feel unable to admit weakness, because people look up to you. I’m here to tell you it’s OK to be afraid.”</p>
<p>T’Challa’s head snapped up and he looked intently at Steve. “I never said . . . that.”</p>
<p>“I know. But any thoughtful, reasonable person would be afraid of what you’re facing right now: a hugely consequential decision and all its fallout. The problems of your people that you hold yourself responsible for. The obligation you feel to get all of it right, all the time. It’s hard to deal with those fears if you don’t feel you have support. But you do. I guarantee it. From loyal citizens, your family, and your friends. Including Natasha and me.”</p>
<p>The king bowed his head, his expression tortured. “What if I fail, Steve? What if I lead my country into disaster?”</p>
<p>“You won’t. You can’t. You are a powerful individual, but you don’t have the power to destroy this nation. Someone would have to work extremely hard to do that, if it can be done at all, and you’re attempting the opposite. Look. If what you propose doesn’t pan out, the Wakandan people are resilient and strong and talented. They’ll persevere. And your supporters won’t abandon you. We know you act in good faith and good will, never out of selfishness. Always out of love.”</p>
<p>T’Challa looked searchingly at Steve, who was surprised to see that his eyes shone with tears. “I love Wakanda—my people. I fear that I am embarking on a dangerous journey, and taking them along. But I feel compelled.”</p>
<p>“You’ll have help. You won’t be alone. For whatever it’s worth, I believe in you.”</p>
<p>“That is very meaningful to me,” T’Challa said. He gritted his teeth to hold back a storm of emotions, pent up over many weeks. Perhaps years.</p>
<p>The young man looked so troubled that impulsively Steve threw his arm around his shoulders. T’Challa swung around to embrace him, and Steve marveled at how tightly he hung on. It was against protocol for anyone to touch the king, beyond a handshake. He wasn’t dating anyone, so he was obviously starved for human contact, let alone affection. Realizing this, Steve continued to hold him and refrained from the usual brotherly pats on the back, an accepted signal to end a hug. He allowed T’Challa to cling to him a little longer than was comfortable.</p>
<p>Finally the king stepped back and dabbed his eyes with a sleeve. “Sorry,” he muttered. “I did not mean to alarm or unsettle you. There are many turbulent currents in my life right now. This period of Returning has been difficult.”</p>
<p>“It sure has. You don’t have to be sorry. The pain hits everyone in different ways, at different times. It’s good to reach out before it becomes too much.”</p>
<p>“You seem quite well adjusted.”</p>
<p>“It’s been longer for me since the Blip—about ten months when you include my time in the past,” Steve reminded him. “And being with Natasha helps keep me on an even keel.”</p>
<p>“I recall after the battle and at Stark’s funeral you were in low spirits, but perfectly calm.”</p>
<p>“I was on autopilot. With the same tunnel vision a soldier uses to get through a long, tough fight. Still in shock from Nat’s death. Inside, I was a mess. I should’ve asked for help. But I was afraid to.”</p>
<p>T’Challa smiled faintly. “Your courage is legend, and I have seen it in action. I have trouble imagining you afraid of anything.”</p>
<p>“On the contrary. I’m often afraid. Courage lies in overcoming fear, not its absence,” Steve said. “You know that. You’re a brave warrior yourself, and a man of compassion.”</p>
<p>The king noticed a line of dark clouds, far past the city, that heralded the storm system moving in. He nodded, feeling Steve’s words ring true within. A memory appeared in the forefront of his mind.</p>
<p>“Years before I took the throne, I asked my father how to be a great king, like him. I will never forget one thing he said: ‘You are a good man with a good heart. And it is hard for a good man to be king.’”</p>
<p>“He was wise. It’s a paradox of sorts. A bad man shouldn’t be king. But a leader is often forced into disagreeable compromises, and there are many times when any decision you make will result in harm to someone. For a good-hearted person it can be difficult to bear.”</p>
<p>T’Challa looked skyward and watched a contrail forming behind a high-altitude jet. “I always assumed his words meant I must fortify myself to undertake this burden. Now I wonder if it means that I should not be king at all. Or that no one should.”</p>
<p>“A good point. It’s better to spread authority, and responsibility, across many leaders and citizens.”</p>
<p>“Baba predicted my reign would be a struggle,” T’Challa remembered. “He said I must surround myself with people I trust. After my romance with Nakia ended, and especially after W’Kabi betrayed me, I withdrew from all except my immediate family and Okoye. I feared a close companion would again abandon me, or prove unworthy.” He met Steve’s eyes. “I am overcoming that, with your help. I cannot prevail upon you to commit to remaining here, as you are a free agent. But I affirm that you are of extraordinary value to me, as king or whatever I may become. And a great comfort.”</p>
<p>“I’m glad,” Steve said, touched by his friend’s intensity. “I imagine Nat and I will be around for quite awhile. I can’t say for sure because I don’t know what she’ll want in the future. Where she goes, I go. But wherever I am, you can call on me. If you need me, I’ll be there.”</p>
<p>T’Challa took a deep breath. “Thank you. I have hope now that I will find the grace to navigate these waters. To strike out into new territory and not become lost.”</p>
<p>“We’ll figure it out. Together. Just keep in mind two words.”</p>
<p>With a wry look, the king guessed, “Don’t panic?”</p>
<p>Steve smiled. “Wakanda forever.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0063"><h2>63. Play the Game</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Rating: Teen and Up<br/>Content Note: None</p>
<p>A consortium of bad guys is pursuing  their own version of a time machine. The Avengers—Sam, Bucky, Wanda, Scott, and Hope—are determined to stop them before they do harm, whether in this timeline or in others.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The five Avengers stood behind a battered green dumpster in a nondescript industrial park. Alert and keyed up, they were ready for the imminent operation to launch. Sam, Bucky, and Wanda wore casual civilian clothes rather than uniforms. Scott was suited up as Ant-Man, Hope as the Wasp, sans wings. Without their helmets, it looked as though they were wearing normal—if colorful—tactical suits.</p>
<p>Sam pulled up his jacket sleeve to examine the sensor array and control panel strapped to his forearm. “Four hots in a room in the center, what we think is the lab,” he reported. “Two in motion, erratic; probably lab workers. Two stationary, maybe guarding the principal objective. One apparent guard by front doors. EM scan shows computer monitors in the back of the building, one room over from this outside door here. There’s a person in front of them, likely watching the security camera feeds.”</p>
<p>He looked around at the team members. “After Bluewing takes out the cam above the side door, we go in. Follow our plan. Wanda, you bat cleanup. Masks on, comms on. Channel five.”</p>
<p>Each of them pressed an area behind their right ear, which activated in-ear communication devices and triggered their nanomask facial disguises.</p>
<p>Sam told Wanda, “Take a position where you can see both doors. Nonchalant like.”</p>
<p>“Yes sir,” Wanda replied. Emerging from behind the dumpster, she walked briskly toward the location she’d scouted. She looked down at her phone and acted as though she were heading toward the parking lot from one of the other buildings.</p>
<p>Sam withdrew his new minidrone, preprogrammed to eliminate its target, from a pocket in his dark blue jacket; he wasn’t wearing a wingsuit. He tossed it into the air and watched its progress on the arm monitor, in lieu of his usual goggles with heads-up display. Bucky, keeping behind the dumpster, observed the drone as it flew. The gadget rocketed straight up five meters to evade the surveillance camera’s field of view. It zipped over the gap between their hiding place and the building. Dropping down to just above the roof, it fired a targeted electromagnetic pulse to knock out any electronic device a meter ahead or to the sides. The only noise was a quick triple thud, too quiet to alarm anyone inside.</p>
<p>“Showtime,” Sam announced when his sensors confirmed the camera was offline. The four trotted the few meters across the asphalt between the dumpster and the warehouse door. The wall was windowless.</p>
<p>Without needing further orders, Scott and Hope donned their nanohelmets and miniaturized to about five centimeters tall. Bucky reached down and scooped them gently into his right hand. He jumped upward a meter and a half and caught hold of a drainpipe with his gloved left hand. One foot struck the faded yellow siding with a dull metallic clang.</p>
<p>“Dammit, man, be quiet up there,” Sam chastised in a stage whisper. Bluewing returned to him, and he tucked it into a zippered pocket in his jacket.</p>
<p>Dangling by his vibranium arm, hidden by a sleeve, Bucky held the tiny Avengers next to an eight-centimeter vent opening high in the wall. They climbed onto the flashing and waited for Buck to pluck out the wire grate that protected the hole from pests. Once the barrier was gone, they swung down into the vent. Scott saluted and the two disappeared into the darkness.</p>
<p>Bucky dropped to the ground, landing almost silently in rubber-soled running shoes.</p>
<p>Sam checked his forearm sensor array again. “Looks like no one heard anything suspicious,” he whispered. “Guards didn’t move. Try getting this sucker open. Quietly.”</p>
<p>Bucky inspected the knob latch and deadbolt. There was no keyhole and the door fit tightly. He knelt down to work his metal fingers into the narrow opening above the threshold. He could have ripped out the doorknob to get a good enough grip on the armored door to tear it off its hinges, but that would betray their presence too soon. Hope and Scott needed time to make it into the center of the building.</p>
<p>The two diminutive heroes increased to about thirty centimeters tall to match the scale of the HVAC system, allowing them to run faster through the tunnels than at insect size. At “Barbie and GI Joe” proportions, they stayed safe and stable when the blower kicked on, causing the miniature equivalent of a tropical gale-force wind. Boosted by the tailwind, after only a minute they were peeking out of a grille in the “lab area.”</p>
<p>Scott activated his earpiece and said excitedly, “This is Ant-Man and Wasp. Target sighted. Confirming, target sighted. Preparing to infiltrate. T minus sixty seconds.” He loved op speak, even if he had to make it up.</p>
<p>“Roger that,” Sam responded from out by the door. “Proceed when ready.” He turned to his sidekick. “Go ahead and bust in. They need the distraction now.”</p>
<p>It only took about five seconds for Bucky to do exactly that, metal squealing as it bent and split. He tossed the mangled door into the room where it crashed loudly onto the concrete floor.</p>
<p>The startled guard, who’d been lounged in a chair wondering idly why one of the camera feeds had glitched out, leaped to his feet. He ran to the outer room and blasted his plastic rifle wildly toward the intruders. The Avengers avoided the paintballs by diving inside and rolling, Buck to the left and Sam to the right. In a fraction of a second Bucky was back on his feet. He seized the rifle and ripped it from the man’s hands.</p>
<p>Sam tackled the hapless guard and whipped out two zip ties from another pocket as he knelt on his back.</p>
<p>“Sorry, Fred. You drew a tough post,” Sam said jovially to his prisoner.</p>
<p>The TAO commando’s face was mashed against the floor, muffling his response. “Might still be ’n the win’ team.”</p>
<p>“We’ll see,” Sam said as he cuffed and shackled.</p>
<p>“G’nna gag meh?” Fred asked, still squashed.</p>
<p>“Nope. We need you to scream bloody murder and draw your buddies.”</p>
<p>Fred grinned as well as he could and complied.</p>
<p>The heads of the two guards in the interior “lab” swiveled when their teammate shouted. “Something’s finally happening,” one said, heading toward the door that led to the southwest corner of the warehouse. His counterpart grinned and followed.</p>
<p>“Hey, don’t leave the MacGuffin unguarded,” said one of the “lab techs” in white coats pretending to work at a counter along the wall. “We’re supposed to be nerds with no fighting skills.”</p>
<p>“Gotta go deal with the breach,” asserted the first guard as they ducked out. “We’ll be right back.”</p>
<p>The techs strolled over to the door and watched the paint-pistol packing guards leave. Taking advantage of their distraction, Scott and Hope squeezed through the vertical slats of the vent grille, dangled themselves from the opening, and hit the triggers to return to normal size. They dropped about a meter and a half to the floor. Hope winced when one ankle turned slightly on impact.</p>
<p>The Team Bad Guys techs jumped in genuine surprise, then staggered backward in mock terror.</p>
<p>“Where did they come from? Oh, whatever shall we do!” yelled one.</p>
<p>The other grabbed the walkie-talkie hooked on his belt. “Help! The lab’s been invaded! Two goons in tac su—” He was cut off when Hope snatched the walkie from his hand and ripped its antenna out.</p>
<p>The cosplaying commando laughed. “That’s a fifty-dollar piece of equipment. Sharon’s gonna dock your pay,” he taunted.</p>
<p>“Stay in character,” Hope growled.</p>
<p>The other lab tech scuttled to the middle of the room and picked up the dented old suitcase, weighted with random junk, that represented the mission objective. Scott rushed over, swept his legs out from under him, and seized the case as the man fell, arms flailing.</p>
<p>“Let’s go!” he called to Hope.</p>
<p>She activated her earpiece and reported, “Target acquired! Wasp and Ant-Man heading to the front door from the lab.”</p>
<p>“You’re not supposed to use our real nicknames,” Scott chided as his partner slid open the deadbolt on the door to the main floor of the warehouse. The place was a maze of crates, boxes, and equipment.</p>
<p>“Crap, I forgot,” Hope said, chagrined. “You started it when you reported from the vent though,” she pointed out as they trotted along. Limping slightly, she wished she were wearing her wings, but they’d immediately identify her and that was verboten in this exercise.</p>
<p>“Yeah, but only us on comms could hear—Hey, heads up!”</p>
<p>The pair skidded to a stop. A tall, broad man was sliding the bolt closed on the regular door next to the vehicle-access rollup at the front of the warehouse. Apparently the guard assigned to the position had been checking outside. His rifle was slung across his back.</p>
<p>Holding the precious suitcase, Scott couldn’t miniaturize. He wielded the thing like a combination shield and battering ram, charging at the Bad Guy—whose name was Lashaun—before he could swing his weapon into firing position.</p>
<p>Lashaun wasted neither words nor time, running to engage with Scott rather than continuing to fumble with the gun. He was several inches over six feet and built like a pro football player.</p>
<p>Her opsec faux pas fresh in her mind, Hope ducked behind a nearby forklift before triggering her suit so Lashaun couldn’t see her do it. Five centimeters was a good size to avoid detection, but a bad size to move fast, especially with a dicey ankle. It took her longer than she’d hoped to get back to where Scott was grappling with the enemy. She left her communicator on and reported as she ran.</p>
<p>“Me and Adam need help up here!” She was breathing hard as she sped across what was, at her size, the equivalent of a couple of football fields. “Big dude has hold of the suitcase!” No ear in the room could hear her tiny voice, but the advanced comm device relayed it properly.</p>
<p>“Copy,” Sam said tersely. He and Bucky were occupied in the corner room with the pair of lab guards, who’d been disarmed but not yet subdued. If the two Avengers had brought weapons and the super soldier had been allowed to use full strength, the guards would have presented maybe ten seconds’ delay. But game objectives included obscuring the Avengers’ identities and causing no serious “injuries.”</p>
<p>After a guard landed a pulled kick on his abdomen, Sam leaped away for a breather. “Buzzy, we need a minute to get free,” he gasped.</p>
<p>“Hawk, want me to come in?” Wanda said from her hiding place outside, using Sam’s mission codename. She’d been listening to everything going on and was growing antsy.</p>
<p>Sam attacked again and flipped his opponent onto his back, then threw himself next to him on the ground. He held a fist in front of the commando’s face to show he could have dealt him a knockout blow.</p>
<p>“You down, Diego,” he said fiercely to the defeated man, who smiled and responded, “Yes, Captain.”</p>
<p>Diego remained on the floor, folding his arms behind his head and crossing his legs comfortably as Sam jumped to his feet.</p>
<p>“Glinda, no,” he responded to Wanda. “Hold position in case of—”</p>
<p>Sam was cut off by the tinny rattle of a paint pistol firing. He whirled around, and found a new wrinkle had developed. One of the “lab techs” had ventured in and managed to grab a discarded gun while Bucky grappled with the remaining guard. The tech’s first shot went wide and blew crimson paint all over the front of a filing cabinet. He pulled the trigger again and hit Bucky on the right side of his chest. His denim vest dripped with what looked like blood.</p>
<p>The players stopped and stared.</p>
<p>“Is Barnes dead or what?” the upright guard asked.</p>
<p>“This wouldn’t kill me,” Bucky said, looking down at the faux wound. “It’d knock me down a few minutes, though. Probably pierce a lung. That’s never any fun.”</p>
<p>“Take three then,” Sam ordered.</p>
<p>Buck shrugged, plopped down in an office chair, and set a timer on his watch. “I’d be fine if I were wearing my bulletproof uniform,” he pointed out.</p>
<p>“Save it for the debrief,” Sam instructed.</p>
<p>Suddenly the comms blared anew. “Hawk, he’s getting away with the case!” yelled Hope.</p>
<p>Up in the front of the warehouse, Scott had held his own with Lashaun, with Hope’s miniature help. Climbing a pant leg, she’d managed to decouple an end of the shoulder strap from the paintball gun, sending it clattering to the ground. She’d gone down with it and quickly disabled the propellant cartridge mechanism. Next Hope turned her attention to pulling Lashaun’s feet out from under him. She was successful once, but as he fell to one knee, she barely escaped getting squashed.</p>
<p>Ultimately, without the freedom to change size at a moment’s notice, the unarmed pair couldn’t overcome a trained, fit fighter much bigger than either of them at normal size and who had an ability to think outside the box. Eventually one of Lashaun’s throws sent Scott tumbling away across the floor. He tucked the suitcase under one muscular arm like a giant football and rushed for the front door.</p>
<p>Now that the witness had his back to her, Hope returned to normal size and took off after him while reporting to Sam. Scott caught up and they simultaneously launched themselves at the fleeing man as he paused to unlock and open the door. Hope grabbed a leg and Scott tackled him at his waist, but the former college running back shook them off and raced out into the driveway.</p>
<p>“Sam!” Scott cried. “Target’s been taken outside!”</p>
<p>“Pinned down, Adam,” grunted Sam, still fighting the last guard and fending off the deliberately ineffectual lab tech in the back room.</p>
<p>Bucky sighed disgustedly and looked at his watch. One more minute of time out.</p>
<p>As he ran toward a white passenger van parked near the warehouse, Lashaun fumbled in his pocket and pulled out a set of keys. Scott and Hope got to their feet and pursued, but he had a solid lead on them. What effective but not insanely dangerous action could they take once he was in the vehicle? If he could get the suitcase out of the industrial park, it was game over.</p>
<p>“Glinda engaging now,” Wanda said grimly as she stepped into the sunshine from her hiding place behind a rickety fence across a driveway. It was time to deploy their last line of defense.</p>
<p>“Wait, Glinda. Jim’ll be free in a minute.” Sam paused as he smacked the paint pistol out of the hand of the lab tech. The commando playing him clutched his wrist, screamed dramatically, and staggered backward. He got a big kick out of training drills.</p>
<p>“You and Buzz and Adam stall the guy,” ordered Sam.</p>
<p>“He’s made it to a vehicle,” Scott reported, huffing and puffing. “Gonna lose him in a minute.”</p>
<p>Lashaun tossed the suitcase into the passenger seat, jumped behind the wheel, and slammed the door, hitting the button to lock them all. A moment later, Scott barreled into the driver’s side door. He pounded on the window, hoping to at least distract the man if not bust through.</p>
<p>Hope ran to the back of the vehicle and ducked below the rear windows.</p>
<p>“What’re you doing? He could run over you!” Scott yelled.</p>
<p>“I’ll get underneath, see if I can disable something,” Hope said quietly so she could only be heard on the comms. She triggered her suit, stopping at a foot high, and climbed atop the differential casing on the rear axle.</p>
<p>The TAO commando started the engine and shoved the vehicle into reverse. He backed up slowly, unsure where Van Dyne had gone and not wanting to clip Lang, still whacking on his door, with the rearview mirror.</p>
<p>“No, Buzzy,” Wanda said forcefully over the comms. “Too dangerous. Get out of there. Adam, step away from the van. Now!”</p>
<p>Sam’s voice broke in. “Y’all chill. We’re on our way.”</p>
<p>In the back room, he shoved the last guard against the wall and snatched up a paint pistol from the floor. Barely glancing at him, he blasted the guard square in the chest at point-blank range. The man looked down and laughed uproariously.</p>
<p>“So much for not killing anybody, Cap,” the lab tech remarked.</p>
<p>Sam ignored him. “You done?” he asked Bucky tightly.</p>
<p>Buck looked at his watch again and held up one finger. “Eight, seven, six . . .”</p>
<p>“Close enough. Go!”</p>
<p>They bolted out the wrecked side door and ran toward the front of the building, Bucky barely keeping pace with Sam. Not only was he supposed to be feigning normal abilities, but he was seriously “wounded.”</p>
<p>As they rounded the corner, they stopped dead in their tracks.</p>
<p>The white van, rear wheels slowly rotating, was four meters off the ground, aloft on crackling pillows of red light. Wanda stood next to a nearby building, eyes and palms glowing, hands moving gently as though keeping a slow-motion ball in the air.</p>
<p>Lashaun had a death grip on the van’s steering wheel and an expression of utter bafflement.</p>
<p>Scott stared at the floating vehicle, shaking his head in wonder. He’d watched Wanda do a lot more than this, but it had been awhile.</p>
<p>Hope, full size, was lying on the ground looking up. The vehicle had lifted while she was still underneath, but off the axle. She’d seen incredible feats during the Battle of Earth, but this seemed weirder somehow: magical strangeness in a bland industrial park, instead of in a ruin beset by alien invaders.</p>
<p>Bucky smiled. He crossed his arms and awaited Sam’s instructions.</p>
<p>Capt. Wilson sighed. “Wanda. Put him down. Gently. This training exercise is over.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0064"><h2>64. Team Meeting</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Rating: Teen and Up<br/>Content Note: None</p>
<p>The Avengers debrief about their just-concluded training exercise. The conversation drifts to the dangers of messing around with time travel, and Wanda decides to share the weird experiences she’s been having.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Sam stood in front of the warehouse and waved at the occupants of the white van as it rolled away. Onboard were the TAO commandos who’d played Team Bad Guys in their training exercise. Lashaun, shaken up, had relinquished the keys to Fred. They were headed back to the temp headquarters, fifteen kilometers from the half-empty industrial park near Poughkeepsie.</p>
<p>Over the past twenty minutes, the Avengers had held a debriefing with the six, sitting on boxes and scavenged chairs in the warehouse. They’d discussed taking the scenario more seriously when the drill was in progress, what additional countermeasures the real Bad Guys might have deployed, and whether anyone on Team Avengers would’ve been identified from clues that had been dropped.</p>
<p>All agreed to call the training match a draw. Once Wanda got hold of the van, the Avengers’ possession of the target object had been guaranteed. But resorting to obvious superpowers violated the objective of plausible deniability. Team Avengers had killed one enemy and taken one serious and one minor casualty of their own—also less than positive outcomes.</p>
<p>Now it was time for a deeper dive into what had gone down, and why. Sam strolled back inside and sat, somewhat dejectedly, in a rickety wooden chair. The big rollup door was open to let fresh air and light into the stuffy warehouse.</p>
<p>Hope’s foot was propped up on a box. She insisted her ankle wasn’t injured enough to warrant medical attention. Sam had agreed only after they found a cold pack in the office freezer and applied it.</p>
<p>“We’re not going to have to pay for repairs, are we?” she asked anxiously. “I broke a walkie in the heat of the moment.”</p>
<p>“I sure hope not,” Bucky chimed in. “I probably did a grand worth of damage. But I busted the door on explicit orders, so if anyone has to cough up it’ll be Cap.”</p>
<p>“Ain’t nobody gonna have to pay,” Sam assured them. “A few thousand dollars for rental, repair, and cleanup is a rounding error to the Foundation. Think about the bill for the Pym particles for Hope and Scott to do their thing today. Training is both necessary and costs money. Sharon and Rhodey realize that.”</p>
<p>“Was it worth it, though? What did we accomplish?” Wanda asked, betraying frustration.</p>
<p>“We didn’t cover ourselves in glory, but we amused some colleagues,” Scott said with a smirk.</p>
<p>Bucky shook his head. “Come on. They teased us, but those guys know we were playing with one hand tied behind our backs. We could barely use any of the skills we got hired for.”</p>
<p>“True. But this is a mode we’ve got to figure out how to execute,” insisted Sam. “When we deal with the time machine assholes, it has to be off the books, under the radar, out of the limelight, whatever metaphor you want. What they’re doing isn’t technically illegal. Not yet. No government has gotten around to banning research into time travel, but waiting until that happens is a bad idea. We gotta nip this in the bud.”</p>
<p>“So when we go after them for doing something not illegal, we’ll be breaking the law ourselves,” Wanda observed.</p>
<p>“Right. We won’t have arrest or search warrants, and it’d be hard to handwave away if we got caught, especially because it’s inside the US. When we’re on their property, we’ll be trespassing. When we infiltrate their lab, we’ll be breaking and entering. When we sabotage their equipment, we’ll be vandalizing. When we take their prototype, we’ll be stealing.” Sam looked around at the team. “Not my favorite situation, but this is too important to be uptight about.”</p>
<p>“I was glad to get my pardon affirmed. I’m nervous about getting crossways with the law again,” Scott said, glancing at Hope, also looking apprehensive. “I’ve been in prison enough to last me.”</p>
<p>Wanda’s chin came up. “You took a greater risk of prison back in 2016, but you came in with us because it was important,” she said to Scott.</p>
<p>“Well, yeah, but I couldn’t turn down . . .” He trailed off awkwardly.</p>
<p>“You couldn’t turn down Captain America?” Wanda said distinctly. “You’d be turning him down if you skip out this time.”</p>
<p>Scott glanced away and fidgeted. “Wanda, I’m not saying I’d skip out. It’s just . . . This really does have to be on the down low. If we can’t make it work without letting on who we are, we need to find somebody else to get the op done.”</p>
<p>“You wanna be the one to admit—to the CIA, the FBI, the UN Security Council, our own leadership, whoever—that we Avengers can’t handle this?” Sam asked.</p>
<p>Hope adjusted her cold pack and sat up straight. She winced but appeared determined. “We won’t have to say that. This was just the first trial. We’ll get better. We shouldn’t give up before we’ve even gotten started.”</p>
<p>“She’s right,” Bucky said. “Let’s debrief and figure out what happened today.”</p>
<p>For the next half hour, Sam led the team in a critique of what went right and what went wrong: operational security, fighting techniques, covert use of technology and superpowers, collateral damage control, contingency planning. In addition to gaming out how the situation might have played out in the real world, they talked about the other side of the coin: where they’d gotten <i>too</i> real for a training scenario.</p>
<p>“Hope, I appreciate your commitment to success in this drill,” Sam said. “But you took huge risks today. You remained extremely small while helping Scott fight Lashaun. He could have mashed you like a bug without knowing it. The attributes of that size give you extra durability, but you still could have gotten badly hurt. Same with climbing up under the van. Please tell me you won’t put yourself in harm’s way again—at least not to that extent, and not during training. That goes for all of us. I already told Barnes I aim to not lose anybody on my watch.”</p>
<p>“I guess I got carried away,” Hope said with a shrug. “I promise I’ll be more cautious if it’s not a life-or-death situation.”</p>
<p>“I shouldn’t have lifted the van up so high,” Wanda volunteered. “If I’d dropped it Lashaun would’ve been injured. I was acting like the circumstances were real, too. Haven’t done this kind of training in awhile.”</p>
<p>“I thank you both for your candor, and for your commitment to safety,” Sam responded. “OK, we’ve chewed on the details pretty good. Now let’s talk big picture. What other ways could I have planned this operation? What approaches might have worked better?”</p>
<p>After a brief pause, Bucky said, “This might not be popular, but it needs to be considered. If this upcoming mission is really important, and we’re gonna break the law anyway, we have to be open to causing more harm. Sam refers to these people as ‘the time machine assholes.’ Because that’s what they are.”</p>
<p>“We could shorten that to ‘TMAs,’” offered Scott.</p>
<p>Bucky glanced sidelong at him and continued. “Our investigation shows that every one of those guys is somewhere on a spectrum of greedy bastards, violent thugs, and maniacs. Today we ended up having to take out one of the fake ones. If anything goes south in the actual op, we’d probably have to waste more. Why not plan for it? Just do it and get this over with. Permanently.”</p>
<p>The ensuing pause was fraught. Each of them knew Barnes’ kill count dwarfed theirs, in hot wars and cold.</p>
<p>Sam was unperturbed. “If deaths happen, we own them, but we’re definitely <i>not</i> going to plan to kill anybody. We will continue to plan the opposite. Three reasons. A: We’re the good guys. B: That’s how good guys do. C: It’s in our interest to minimize damage in every operation, including casualties. Goes a long way toward official goodwill, which preserves our freedom of action. The PR to make ‘Cap and the Guardian’ more accepted seems to be working so far, and has coattails for the rest of the team. We don’t want to screw that up by being free with the mayhem. Comprende, pardner?”</p>
<p>Bucky nodded and smiled agreeably. “Got it.”</p>
<p>Sam’s expression turned extra stern as he worked to stifle a chuckle. He knew Buck understood the philosophy and reasons he’d laid out. But his deputy was cheerfully willing to play bad cop and bring the distasteful to light. He set up a target for the leader to shoot down, reinforcing the values of the team.</p>
<p>“Besides a gangland-style massacre, any other ideas on how to go about this?” Sam asked lightly. Everyone looked thoughtful, but none volunteered, so he continued.</p>
<p>“I was thinking it coulda worked better if we’d talked our way in, right through the front door. Somebody gets them to open up and then we all invade the joint at once. Instead of sneaking in and getting strung out in pissant fights. Knock a bunch down before they have a chance to react, tie some up if necessary, raid their lab, hit the road. No need for fancy tech or superpowers that’d let ‘em know who we are.”</p>
<p>“Which one of us could talk their way in, though? I don’t think I can,” Bucky said. “I was trained in stealth, not blarney. Anybody else?”</p>
<p>Hope shook her head. “I’d act too nervous. They’d know something was up.”</p>
<p>“I’m ace at getting into places, but mostly as a cat burglar,” said Scott.</p>
<p>Sam chuckled. “Yeah, you ain’t too smooth talking when you get caught.”</p>
<p>“I’ve done a little social engineering in the field,” Wanda said, and looked at Sam. “You and I got training from the same source. But I’m not expert level.”</p>
<p>“I probably couldn’t have pulled it off either,” Sam admitted defeatedly. “We need . . . ” His face tensed as his pause lingered.</p>
<p>“You can say it. We need Natasha,” Wanda stated.</p>
<p>“Yes. Goddammit.” Sam closed his eyes. “She wasn’t the only one who could do it, though. I saw Steve fast-talk his way out of a couple nasty situations, when we were underground. Even in, like, French.”</p>
<p>“He learned technique from her too,” Wanda said. “Nat told me they improved each other’s skills over the years. She taught him to be a better spy; he taught her to be a better soldier. I wish we’d had more tradecraft instruction with them.”</p>
<p>“We could ask the CIA, but I don’t want to owe them anything. I prefer to keep the whole IC at arm’s length. I’d rather use someone within TAO, or an adviser,” said Sam.</p>
<p>“The Wakandans on the council aren’t directly in that field, but they could send us an expert. Like Mutombo, who was at the memorial service,” Bucky suggested. “Shuri says she can convince people of anything, get inside anywhere.”</p>
<p>“If need be, but I think Clint is our best bet,” Sam said. “I’m told he has good craft, even if it wasn’t as much his specialty as it was Nat’s.”</p>
<p>“How much in-person time would he be willing to devote, though, being retired?” Hope cautioned.</p>
<p>“We could also use another body during the operation,” said Bucky. “It’s tough to do a complex op with only five people, covering all the angles, if we’re restricted to being normal. I mean, Wanda alone can do a battalion’s worth of damage but it’s gonna be obvious.”</p>
<p>Wanda smiled sheepishly while everyone else nodded.</p>
<p>“Let’s talk about assault team composition,” Sam said. “Wanda, you volunteered to join us for training exercises, and that’s great. But if we get the chance to go after the TMAs within the next couple of months, I’m not sure you should be included. It’s a lot of stress. I’d say the same about anyone who’d lost a romantic partner, so recently.”</p>
<p>“I appreciate that, Sam. I really do,” Wanda said. “I think I can handle it, though. All of you have been so supportive since we got back that I’m feeling . . . stable. And I know you and Bucky are dealing with loss as well. I agree that a full schedule—like, ops every other week and intense prep and training in between—would be a bad idea right now. I’m grieving, but I want to contribute as much I can. I believe Vision would want me to, especially toward the goal we worked on today. These TMAs don’t realize, or don’t care, how consequential time travel can be. If they could only see into these other timelines that split off when we go mucking around in the past. The things that can happen—or don’t happen.”</p>
<p>Wanda surveyed her teammates’ attentive faces, all showing care and respect. She wondered whether it was time to disclose what she’d been experiencing via her subconscious, and the information she’d gleaned.</p>
<p>“Sweetie, are you OK?” Hope asked with concern. Wanda’s face had gone blank as she considered the question.</p>
<p>“Oh, yes, I’m fine. I was just thinking . . . Cap, I’ve got some interesting intel related to alternate timelines. Would it be all right to share it now?”</p>
<p>Sam’s eyebrows had shot up. “I believe we’re all ears, Maximoff.”</p>
<p>Wanda told the group about her December timeline transudations. She also reported the odd “shimmers” she’d seen, including at the party they’d all attended Christmas evening, and the possible explanations.</p>
<p>“This shimmery thing be weird,” Sam said, frowning. “You are blowing my mind. There’s some ghost snooping around?”</p>
<p>“Could be,” said Wanda. “But Dr. Strange thinks it’s related to me. So probably not your grandmother or anything.”</p>
<p>“I hope not. My live grandma’s a sweetheart, but the dead one was a piece of work.”</p>
<p>“You said it might also be someone in an alternate timeline,” Bucky noted.</p>
<p>“It’s possible.”</p>
<p>“Maybe Steve?”</p>
<p>There was dead silence.</p>
<p>“I . . . don’t think he cares enough to do what it would take,” Wanda said. “And he doesn’t have the skills. Dr. Strange said it would need to be a real magician or someone with psi powers and training.”</p>
<p>“He’s old now—who knows how he spent his time all those years,” Scott pointed out.</p>
<p>“If he wanted to check on us, he could put his timesuit back on and schlep his old ass back over here,” Sam said sourly.</p>
<p>“But maybe the government in his timeline found out about the time travel and doesn’t want him to use it again,” Hope speculated. “Or he’s low on Pym particles.”</p>
<p>“You think he’d let either of those stop him, if he was motivated?” Sam replied.</p>
<p>“Give him a break,” Bucky said. “Even with the serum, he’s less spry than he used to be. We figured he’s at least 113, maybe older. I agree with Hope—the powers that be over there might have clamped down. We don’t even know what point in his timeline he came from in the first place.”</p>
<p>“Huh? What do you mean?” asked Scott.</p>
<p>“When he visited in early November, we don’t know that he was coming from 2023 where <i>he’s</i> living,” said Bucky. “Before he left, he told me he’d show up but he didn’t specify how. He could be traveling forward from 2016, maybe after that timeline’s Peggy died. Probably before a time machine was invented there. Or backward from 2030, or whenever. Could’ve been lots of reasons for him not to travel in his 2023.” He looked thoughtful. “Once he got into the stream, their authorities couldn’t control where he went, like we couldn’t. There’d be no guarantee he wouldn’t split more timelines elsewhere, so they might’ve forbidden him from going at all. From what I’ve read, nothing he could do here would have that result, though. He’s from an already split line, not from our own future.”</p>
<p>Everyone stared at Bucky.</p>
<p>“Where are you getting all this esoteric shit?” asked Sam.</p>
<p>“What do you think I do while you guys are out playing racquetball and golf and tennis and stuff?”</p>
<p>“Watch TV?” Scott guessed.</p>
<p>“Read, mostly. The working paper Dr. Banner finished last month on the practicalities of time travel isn’t hard to understand if you pay enough attention.”</p>
<p>Hope looked sympathetically at Bucky and then sternly at Sam. “Sam, have you not been inviting him along for our whack-a-ball sessions?”</p>
<p>“Course I do. He always says no.”</p>
<p>Bucky half smiled and shook his head. “I’m a fifth wheel. And you do realize I could win our games all the time? As long as Wanda doesn’t break out her powers. When I have to concentrate on dialing back, it’s not much fun for me. So I don’t go.”</p>
<p>“Our egos appreciate it. OK, we’re seriously on a tangent here,” Sam said. “Wanda, what else did you want to tell us about?”</p>
<p>“Where was I? Oh, right. Like I mentioned, I’ve been discussing everything with Dr. Strange.” She filled them in on the lore, background, and reasoning Strange had contributed to understanding the phenomena.</p>
<p>“So that gets you caught up to New Year’s,” Wanda concluded. “Since then, like my second ‘dream’ implied I might, I had another transudation a week ago. The night of January second, right on time. In this one—”</p>
<p>“Wait, wait. Before you go on, lemme ask you a question,” Scott interrupted. “You’re saying that Dr. Strange can show up inside our complex whenever he feels like it? Just use the portal thing?”</p>
<p>“Yes, but he’s polite. He knocks on the door,” Wanda explained.</p>
<p>Bucky looked askance at Scott. “It’s no surprise. You saw how he and Wong got all of us over here from Wakanda and other planets and wherever with those portals.”</p>
<p>“Yeah, but that was a certifiable Big Deal. Fate-of-the-universe type stuff,” Scott said. “I guess I never thought he’d use serious magic to save a couple hours drive time.”</p>
<p>Wanda shrugged. “I use scarlet energy to push the vacuum cleaner around, and occasionally to hit the snooze button on my alarm. The doc and I both exercise discipline about it, but sometimes it’s so much easier to use a power than to do it the regular way.”</p>
<p>Hope rolled her eyes. “Wanda, ignore him, please. Tell us about the most recent dream!”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0065"><h2>65. Team Time</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Rating: Teen and Up<br/>Content Note: None</p>
<p>Wanda reports her remarkable third transudation experience, and all the Avengers discuss the effects this strangeness may have on the world.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>January 2, 2024 (Timeline 2)</b>
</p>
<p>Wanda found herself walking north along Jeneky Bulevard in the Novi Grad city center, a route she’d taken many times. She recognized the same hyperrealistic quality as in her previous transudation experiences. Thrilled to be in the alternate timeline again, she looked forward to seeing more of her life there, especially family and friends no longer in Timeline 1.</p>
<p>She strode along the snowy sidewalk behind Pietro and next to Zoran, who was holding her hand. Zoran was tall, dark, and thin with a naturally brooding look, but his quick smile and attentive gray eyes showed how happy he was to be with her. They all wore jeans, boots, and sweaters, topped with heavy overcoats.</p>
<p>The three entered the south gateway in front of the convention center, whose windows shone brightly in the dark winter evening. The planned protest against the Avengers and the USA hadn’t yet gained much traction. About two dozen people waved signs and chanted by the north gate, attended by a TV crew.</p>
<p>After a wait in the short line to get into the building, a guard waved them to a door that accessed the front of the main meeting hall. They had premium passes; Wanda noticed a memory in Wanda2’s mind about a friend in the municipal government who’d helped her secure them.</p>
<p>They shuffled in behind a group of businessmen and copped second-row center seats.</p>
<p>“Getting here early was a good idea,” Zoran said. “Worth waiting around.”</p>
<p>Pietro shrugged. “I’m just curious to see what spectacle these people are going to put on to make themselves look good. Probably pass out a scholarship or two, or an internship at Stark’s megacorp,” he said derisively.</p>
<p>Wanda had wondered after the previous transudation how she would feel if she saw her brother in Timeline 2. She found it less bitter and more sweet than she’d guessed. He was so vibrantly alive, and despite his performative cynicism he appeared to be happier than the young man she’d known. It was a treat to see him fully grown up, and a comfort that he still existed somewhere, even if he wasn’t quite the same Pietro she remembered.</p>
<p>As the three chatted and scrolled through their smartphones, Wanda observed Wanda2’s memories and emotions. She was curious about how and why that version of herself had evolved away from the anti-Americanism prompted by the 2008 raids. Wanda2 hadn’t had the experiences with Strucker, Ultron, and the Avengers that Wanda1 had. But her alternate self wasn’t thinking about the past. She was full of hope about her ambition to be a psychological counselor, the prosperity and healing of her country, and someday having a family—maybe with Zoran. She was quite smitten, and it helped that her twin brother was friends with him too.</p>
<p>A few minutes after the scheduled event time, Zoran stood and surveyed the crowd. “Standing room only. There must be over five hundred people,” he reported.</p>
<p>At that moment, the mayor emerged onstage with a handheld microphone. She thanked the attendees and announced a surprise guest: Sokovia’s prime minister. Wanda2 and her companions glanced at each other in surprise. This was a bigger deal than expected.</p>
<p>After a short address extolling previous US aid to Sokovia, the prime minister welcomed the Avengers group. Applause was enthusiastic and sustained.</p>
<p>Tony appeared first, toting his own microphone, wearing an immaculately tailored pinstripe suit and red tie. He smiled and waved, clearly in his element, and the ovation swelled when the crowd spotted him. In his wake followed an older black man in a maroon track suit and a blond woman wearing a skirted black business suit. Wanda2 realized she knew the woman slightly; she headed the psychology department at her university. Bringing up the rear were Natasha and Steve, side by side in “business casual” wear. There was smaller rise in the applause than for the former Iron Man.</p>
<p>Wanda was amused to note that the lesser fanfare for her favorite Avengers annoyed Wanda2, who clapped harder to make up for the shortfall and elbowed Zoran to do the same.</p>
<p>The prime minister shook hands with the visitors. Natasha, relaxed and cordial, introduced herself and thanked the crowd in Sokovian for their warm welcome. She apologized that her colleagues hadn’t mastered their lovely language, which drew laughter and cheers. In Sokovian and then English, she introduced Tony. Everyone else stood fanned out on the otherwise empty stage.</p>
<p>“Thanks, Red. I would say I’m sorry about being a typical monolingual American, but I have a few other positive attributes, so I feel good about myself anyway.” He paused as laughter rippled through the crowd. “You must be wondering why I’ve gathered you all here today. As rumored, we’re announcing some exciting initiatives for Sokovia. I prefer not to dwell on the past because the future is so much more interesting, but you all know why the Stark Foundation and the Avengers have a particular interest in your country. Now, we want to give you guys a boost. Since I retired from active duty last year, I’ve been spending quality time with my family. That’s a new concept, and I’ve enjoyed the heck out of it. But I’ve also had time to work on this project. Partnering with your government, we’ve created a three-pronged plan addressing mental health, wellness, and higher education. My foundation and a second organization are providing the funding. I’ll introduce the collaborator in a few minutes. Gotta preserve a little mystery to keep you from falling asleep out there!” He was rewarded with more laughs.</p>
<p>“Another way to keep your attention is for me to yield the floor to the one and only Natasha Romanov.”</p>
<p>Wanda2 was pleased with the enthusiastic applause that Natasha now merited. The crowd warmed to her because she spoke their uncommon language so well. Nat continued in Sokovian. “As many of you know, I have a particular interest in mental health issues. Our program expands an existing network of excellent counseling centers. Stark money will get treatment for PTSD, grief, depression, and other brain injuries and diseases to more people who need it.” She introduced the advising psychology prof, who expressed gratitude for the funding and for the awareness leveraged by Avenger attention.</p>
<p>Natasha beckoned Steve. Switching to English, she said, “Next up is the perfect person to address physical and emotional fitness. Our super soldier number one and a helluva nice guy, Steve Rogers.” As she passed off the mike, they smiled at each other coyly, as though they shared a secret. Applause was on the warm side of polite except for a contingent in the back that started cheering. Several jumped up and down in excitement, shouting “CapTAIN, CapTAIN, CapTAIN!” When he waved in their direction, they went nuts.</p>
<p>“Thanks everyone. Great to be in this beautiful country with my friends, old and new. Our colleagues, the other four current Avengers, send their best wishes as well,” Steve began. “We’re glad to bring good news to Sokovia. The second part of our initiative promotes health and fitness for everybody, from little kids up through elders. I’ve witnessed people improving themselves from wherever they start, whether they’re an individual with a disability, an average person, a top-flight athlete, or somewhere in between. Please let me introduce the man who’ll be opening a dozen no-cost wellness centers in your country: Mr. Jomo Pinkerton, executive director of Pinky’s Athletic Clubs.”</p>
<p>The man in the track suit approached Steve with a big grin and patted him on the shoulder as he accepted the microphone. Pinkerton explained that his nonprofit gyms were concentrated in developing or struggling communities, starting in Kenya and subsequently in five other countries, including the US. “Our clubs take a holistic approach to support well-being through exercise, sport, nutritional counseling, cooking and crafts classes, and other avenues.” His enthusiasm was infectious, and he got a big hand as Tony stepped forward again.</p>
<p>“Now comes the moment you’ve all been waiting for, even if you didn’t know it,” said the genius billionaire no-longer-playboy philanthropist. “To speak about the crown jewel of our Sokovian initiative, I give you Prince T’Challa of Wakanda!”</p>
<p>There was astonished murmuring throughout the hall, then wild applause as T’Challa appeared from stage right in an ornate embroidered tunic of dark red fabric. He waved to the crowd and shook hands onstage before taking the mike and waiting in benign serenity for the hall to quiet.</p>
<p>“Thank you, my brothers and sisters of Sokovia. You may have experienced envy or frustration that the closest Wakandan outreach center was in Budapest. Feel disappointed no more. In association with the Stark Foundation, Wakanda will build a state-of-the-art institute in Novi Grad to provide advanced technological and scientific education to your citizenry. It will be a hub for vibranium-based science as well as other disciplines.” He paused as excited ripples of talk subsided. “The research and development will enhance your infrastructure, to include transportation, medicine, and power generation. Property has been secured, and we break ground in the spring.”</p>
<p>A grinning Stark and a gratified prime minister joined T’Challa at center stage as the audience gave a standing ovation, including Wanda and her companions—though Pietro would have insisted he was clapping ironically. A photographer emerged to snap grip-and-grin photos.</p>
<p>Finally Tony told the attendees, “We like coming here a lot better when we have something constructive to offer. Thank you to the Sokovian government for being open to these gestures of ours. We’ll see you again when we have milestones to celebrate for these projects!”</p>
<p>As the presenters dispersed, Wanda2 turned to Pietro. “Looks like I <i>will too</i> have a job when I get my social work degree,” she said, and stuck out her tongue.</p>
<p>Her twin rolled his eyes. “You got lucky with your bleeding-heart help-people dreams. Thanks, Avengers!” he said mockingly, and saluted US Army-style.</p>
<p>“You’ll benefit from the technology institute just as much. Don’t be so negative, Pete,” said Zoran, using his friend’s English nickname—which he disliked. “Sometimes even Americans do good things.”</p>
<p>Wanda2 laughed, and Wanda was glad, because she was amused too, though for different reasons.</p>
<p>“You don’t have to come with us to the meet and greet. You can go home,” she teased Pietro.</p>
<p>Her brother examined his ticket, surprised. “These are like backstage passes?”</p>
<p>“Indeed. We’ll go have wine and cheese with Avengers and the prime minister while you sulk. See ya!” she said breezily, heading for the door as Zoran chuckled and followed her.</p>
<p>“Well, if there’s free snacks . . .” Pietro said lamely, and brought up the rear.</p>
<p>They found their way into the reception room, and Wanda felt a frisson of anticipation with a hint of misgiving. What would it be like to encounter close friends who were dead—or at least gone—in her own timeline? Especially Natasha and Steve, whom she missed so much and had such complicated feelings about.</p>
<p>There was no formal reception line; visitors and dignitaries mingled freely in the crowd of about eighty. Wanda2 encouraged the boys to graze the array of hors d’oeuvres, which they happily did as she joined the edge of the dense group around Tony. Joking and telling stories, he basked in the attention. Not knowing how long her current visit to Timeline 2 would last, Wanda was glad Wanda2 didn’t feel the need to wait around to meet him. Both enjoyed his effervescent charm from afar.</p>
<p>She glanced to her left and saw Mr. Pinkerton listening to Tony with a beatific smile. Wanda2 introduced herself in her best English and thanked him for his efforts. To make polite conversation, she asked why he promoted his full-service clubs internationally, and as nonprofit enterprises.</p>
<p>“My dear young lady, what a good question. It started with my father, who founded the first Pinky’s, in our nation’s capital.” The old man related how, as a boy, the gym’s patrons greatly impressed him. “I learned at a young age to admire these strong, disciplined men of my community, because at that time the city was deeply segregated. I rarely saw anyone but fellow African Americans, and we had no television. But my horizons were broadened through a series of strangely realistic dreams I had when I was a boy. I hope this doesn’t sound too mystical,” he said with a shy smile.</p>
<p>Wanda2 wondered what she was getting herself into, but Wanda’s attention was suddenly riveted.</p>
<p>Jomo said the dreams featured a white fellow whose secret athletic prowess outshone anything he’d seen in his short life. “Later in school I learned about Captain America and the like. At seven, however, I wasn’t allowed to read comic books, whether they were about real-life adventures or made-up ones. I’ve no idea why my subconscious had a ‘superhero’ type concept at that age,” he said. But what stuck with him even more was the friendly encouragement the nameless strongman gave to the shy little boy he’d been, even in his dreams.</p>
<p>“I emigrated to Africa in my early forties and ran a successful gym for many years in Wakanda. Then in 2012, I had an epiphany, though I don’t know what sparked it. I began to dwell on those long-ago dreams. The kindness I remembered from that mysterious figure opened me to a new mission: bringing fun, fellowship, and fitness to all kinds of people, no matter their ethnicity, gender, social class, or physical ability. I reinterpreted those dreams as a message: that everyone could aspire to great feats, and great compassion.”</p>
<p>Wanda2 thought the old man was sweet but overly woo-woo. Wanda wanted to hear more from him, but her counterpart soon excused herself to pursue the celebrities she most wanted to meet.</p>
<p>As with her response to Pietro, Wanda found that her encounters with Steve2 and Natasha2 weren’t sad at all. It was wonderful to hear their voices and see their familiar faces. There were no hugs; these Avengers had never met this young Sokovian. Wanda2 was thrilled when she shook Nat’s hand and looked into her unmistakable eyes. Wanda found the experience nostalgic but realized it actually wasn’t the same as meeting her friend and mentor again in “real life.”</p>
<p>Her encounter with Cap was similar. As much as she wanted to speak with—and maybe yell at—“her” Steve, she didn’t have the same yearning when confronted with Steve2. Here was a perfectly nice man who’d have no clue what she was talking about.</p>
<p>Wanda experienced Wanda2’s attitudes toward the two: enthusiasm and admiration, rather than the kinship bond she herself felt. And though Timeline 2 Nat and Steve had the same basic personalities and gave off a similar vibe as their Timeline 1 counterparts, they’d had years of divergent experiences. Wanda felt drawn to them, but while they weren’t quite strangers, they were subtly different people than the lost friends in her own world.</p>
<p>* * *</p>
<p>
  <b>January 9, 2024 (Timeline 1)</b>
</p>
<p>“After meeting Natasha and Steve, I began to drift away from the other Wanda, like I did in my second ‘dream.’ Then I woke up,” Wanda finished. “I believe that encountering them, and Mr. Pinkerton too, was what I was there for. The whole thing was super interesting, though Dr. Strange and I haven’t fully unpacked what it means—or <i>why</i> I’m having these experiences.”</p>
<p>The other four Avengers were fascinated by Wanda’s tale.</p>
<p>“It’s amazing that you’re seeing our doubles in another universe, basically,” Bucky said.</p>
<p>“And not seeing some of us,” Hope pointed out. “I wonder where Scott and I are in that timeline. Or <i>if</i> we are.”</p>
<p>“Yeah, the differences are interesting. Spider-Man and Black Panther are Avengers over there. T’Challa’s title is prince, so is T’Chaka still alive? And why did Stark retire?” Bucky mused.</p>
<p>“It’s a good thing we have Wanda and her psi powers or we’d never be getting this information,” said Sam.</p>
<p>“Other people can have this happen, too,” Scott countered. “Like that old man Pinkerton, back when he was a kid. I’m laying odds those weren’t regular dreams. What timeline was he seeing into with a superhuman guy in DC in, like, the ’50s?”</p>
<p>He paused, wondering whether he should share with the group a memory that had bubbled up. He decided they were likely to accept it without making fun of him.</p>
<p>“Not exactly the same, but when Hank fired up the Quantum Tunnel for the first time, I had what I thought was a dream. I saw Hope as a child, through Janet’s eyes, and talked to her. I was asleep, but it was like this—a peek into another realm.” Ant-Man was as serious as they’d ever seen him.</p>
<p>“Good point, Scott,” Sam affirmed. “Anybody might be susceptible, especially if primed by a previous experience.”</p>
<p>“Have you investigated the strangers you saw in the, uh, transudation? Do they exist in our world, and if so are they in the same positions?” Bucky asked. “I wonder if they’ve had any odd ‘dreams’ lately.”</p>
<p>“Not yet,” Wanda answered. “I know the Sokovian prime minister here isn’t that same person, but I haven’t tried to find out where he is. I seemed to be waiting for some other shoe to drop.” She looked around again. “Maybe I needed to tell you guys about this before it could be a real project.”</p>
<p>“I’m glad you did,” said Hope. “I think it’s valuable to get the lay of the land with all this new timeline stuff—the information transfer could affect our world. And we can help you.”</p>
<p>“Exactly,” Sam said. “There’s likely a reason you’re having these experiences and it might be important. And you could be a canary in a coal mine, at the forefront of a phenomenon. We should be vigilant about noticing anomalies—the shimmery deal, or realistic dreams, or strong intuitions.” He met everyone’s eyes, one by one, as he spoke. “We don’t have the powers or training that Wanda and the doc do, but we’ve all been exposed to some mighty outré stuff. Who knows what’s rubbed off. Don’t hesitate to bring your speculations and experiences to the team, or at least to me. We’ve been brought together for a reason, even if we don’t fully know what it is yet.”</p>
<p>None of them would have been able to explain it, but all five felt something shift within the group dynamic. Between the training exercise and the discussions in its wake, they felt more comfortable with each other, more focused, and had a greater sense of shared purpose than before. They were becoming a real team.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0066"><h2>66. Light Hearted</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Rating: Teen and Up<br/>Content Notes: None</p>
<p>Steve undergoes another TDE scan and the WDG team brings in T’Challa to assist Shuri and M’Gaji in the quest for insight into how “enhancement” works. Is it more widespread than previously thought?</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Here’s another chapter like 51, 52 and 54: heavy on the phlebotinum and dubious science. And dialogue. But it’s only one chapter rather than three in a row! Fluffiness returns next chapter, I promise…</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Steve’s second “transdimensional energy” scan was more elaborate and technologically sleek than the first, though only three weeks had elapsed. In that time, Design Group technicians had constructed a small soundproof room and built in an automated scanning table so the faint noise emitted during the process could be effectively recorded.</p>
<p>Wearing sweatpants and a slightly too-small T shirt, Steve sat waiting on the table afterward. Shuri opened the door and peeked in with a welcoming smile. “Thank you for joining us today, Steve. Your hologram should be ready in a few minutes.”</p>
<p>“Good to see you, Shuri.” She’d recently told him she’d like to be on a first-name basis, on the same terms as he was with T’Challa.</p>
<p>“Any interesting results from investigating the audio component?” he asked.</p>
<p>“We have re-scanned several original subjects and recruited five more volunteers since we began to capture the sound,” she answered. “There are significant differences in the waveform profiles between subjects, but we do not yet know what they mean.”</p>
<p>T’Challa and Dr. M’Gaji appeared in the doorway and greeted Steve as they filed in, curious to see the American’s results when they emerged from the computer system.</p>
<p>“I underwent a new scan earlier today as well,” the king told Steve. “My sister assures me the radiation signature has been refined for increased safety.”</p>
<p>“In a few more weeks, we hope to have the extended functional scan adjusted as well, so that it emits less ionizing radiation than a CT scan,” M’Gaji reported. “Perhaps then Ms. Sheen will feel more comfortable about contributing to the study.”</p>
<p>“Perhaps,” Steve said noncommittally. He suspected something else behind Natasha’s reluctance, though he wasn’t sure what it was. She was at her first dance class this morning and had suggested he make his followup visit to WDG while she was out.</p>
<p>“You said the second scan will also track whether results vary over time,” he continued, shifting topic.</p>
<p>“Yes. The primary reason to reduce the radiation exposure: so we can do as many scans on one subject as warranted,” M’Gaji confirmed.</p>
<p>“T’Challa’s result was similar to his previous one, with slight changes in the color spectrum,” noted Shuri. “We wonder what could explain such variations. Which of a hundred possible factors should we document, besides what we discover in medical scans?”</p>
<p>“Fatigue? Diet? Phases of the moon?” T’Challa speculated.</p>
<p>The men chuckled, but Shuri cautioned them. “Ruling out ‘unimportant’ variables when researching a mysterious phenomenon is risky. We have no idea what apparently unrelated changes may affect TDE, but we must formulate some guesses so we can design a questionnaire. M’Gaji, would you bring up the enhanced version of Mr. Holden’s first scan?”</p>
<p>Steve stood aside as the doctor manipulated holographic controls near the wall. His bright TDE hologram appeared over the table, this time with colors intensified.</p>
<p>T’Challa looked startled. “I had not seen this. Remarkable,” he said in wonder.</p>
<p>“Spectral analysis on all the holograms showed the consistent variation between ‘head’ and ‘chest’ color that Steve noticed. It is particularly interesting to compare his to yours, Brother,” said Shuri. She pointed at the neck of Steve’s image. “The shorter, bluer wavelengths are concentrated in his head and continue down the neck and past the shoulders. The longer wavelengths, closer to red, start in the chest and are seen throughout the rest of his body. Whereas . . .” Shuri nodded to M’Gaji, who moved a control.</p>
<p>The hologram disappeared and was replaced by another. “In this scan of his highness, the vast majority of the bright areas are shorter wavelengths; they even dominate the chest. Only its very center has the golden light, increased slightly from the first scan.”</p>
<p>M’Gaji switched the hologram back to Steve’s.</p>
<p>“Here is something fascinating not even Mr. Holden picked up,” added the doctor, indicating a three-centimeter area under his navel that glowed greenish-white. “The color enhancement revealed it. When we looked at our other subjects more closely, we found three with a similar ‘gut center,’ though quite tiny and faint.”</p>
<p>“What about the other person who had larger spheres? The meditator?” Steve asked.</p>
<p>“Her ‘extra’ TDE was primarily golden light,” M’Gaji told him. “And nothing in the abdomen.”</p>
<p>Shuri shook her head. “All the subjects yield valuable data, but I am sure we would get further faster if we could examine additional enhanced persons,” she lamented. “I wish we could lure Sgt. Barnes here for examination.”</p>
<p>M’Gaji glanced at the control monitor and announced, “Your scan has been processed.” She switched Steve’s December version for the new one.</p>
<p>Three things were immediately apparent: The colors were almost identical to the previous hologram, the TDE pervaded his body to the same extent, and the intensity of the light was slightly lower, especially in the golden areas.</p>
<p>“You have gone a bit dim, my friend. Are you feeling well?” said T’Challa, patting Steve on the back cheerfully.</p>
<p>“I nearly always feel well, especially nowadays. Nothing to injure me, even temporarily,” Steve said, looking curiously at his light representation. “My diet hasn’t changed much in the past three weeks. I’ve been getting plenty of exercise—of all kinds. Maybe it <i>is</i> the moon phase,” he said with a smirk.</p>
<p>“I shall document it in your file,” M’Gaji said seriously.</p>
<p>“I can think of another factor today that is different,” said the king. “Ms. Sheen is not present. I have observed that, subjectively, you seem ‘brighter’ when you are together.”</p>
<p>Steve smiled shyly and did not demur.</p>
<p>“I do not know how such an effect would work, but I shall note it as well,” said the doctor, writing on a holographic tablet.</p>
<p>“The standard medical scan you underwent before the TDE update today will be compared with your baseline for variations,” Shuri told Steve. “Might you benefit from another full scan?”</p>
<p>“I don’t feel any different than I did that day.”</p>
<p>“Then we shall not waste your time. It would likely be boringly perfect. Same as this one,” she said, pointing her thumb at T’Challa by her side.</p>
<p>The king smiled and shrugged. “The Herb does what the Herb does,” he said. “Shall we repair to some comfortable chairs and speculate about variables over tea?”</p>
<p>Steve was pleased. “You have time to stay and talk, your highness? You said this is a busy week.”</p>
<p>“It is. But the good doctor and my sister have persuaded me this research is of significance and my amateur insights may be of use. As are yours.”</p>
<p>The four were soon sipping hot tea in the lounge area and reviewing the TDE project. “The data are intriguing, but we lack context and direction,” Shuri explained. “We should construct at least vaguely plausible hypotheses, even if mechanisms of action are unclear. We can assume we will amend or discard them as we gather more data, but the speculation would lend shape to the investigation.”</p>
<p>“How do the sounds recorded during the scans fit in?” T’Challa asked.</p>
<p>“Unknown,” M’Gaji answered. “Confoundingly, the sound patterns do not correlate well with the light patterns. For example, we identified three holograms with TDE spheres nearly identical in size, brightness, and color. When we compared audio of those scans, they were significantly different. One of those recordings closely correlated with a fourth subject’s, but their holograms were quite divergent.”</p>
<p>“You made a point previously, Doctor, about the underlying state of the subject: mental, emotional, physical,” said Steve. “Let’s keep assuming this energy is transdimensional and that it’s accessed through natural portals within the body. Three people may have the same type or amount yet it may have different effects, depending on underlying condition or personality. Maybe when the scanner is bouncing radiation off and through a subject’s cells, it generates sound harmonics that somehow reflect this difference.”</p>
<p>There was silence as the other three digested his words. “That is a possibly helpful idea,” Shuri said, impressed. M’Gaji scribbled notes on her holotablet.</p>
<p>T’Challa got up and stood by the window into the courtyard, staring out at the bright day. “Shuri, what are your ideas on the various colors in the holograms?”</p>
<p>“We assume for purposes of investigation that the three basic colors represent TDE types. The colors so far exactly correlate with the location from which each emanates. We do not yet understand how—or whether—the types produce observable, differentiable effects.”</p>
<p>“As you say, my brilliant sister, we have only limited data to go on. You briefed me on the discussion you and M’Gaji had with Steve and Kathryn. If we proceed on the theory that extensive TDE somehow causes ‘enhancement,’ then an obvious start is to analyze the similarities and differences between Steve and me.”</p>
<p>“You and I show different proportions of the colors, and mine appears more extensive,” Steve noted. “Yet we have similar physical abilities. Does that mean the golden chest type energy is less effective than the blue-white head type energy? Is that how we’ve ended up close to the same?”</p>
<p>“I do not think it is that simple,” said Shuri. “There are certain correlations that I believe are significant: you are the only person to have undergone the Vita-Ray chamber, and your flood of TDE emanates from the chest locus. Dr. Erskine obviously knew how to enhance the high-wavelength light, because yours is much more extensive than a normal individual’s. But he did not stop there.”</p>
<p>“Both his highness and Mr. Holden manifest excess ‘head’ TDE, so I would guess the portal in the brain can be enhanced through the use of either the Heart-Shaped Herb potion or the Erskine serum,” M’Gaji declared. “Thus far, only Steve and the meditator show additional golden light. So chest—or, shall we say, heart—portal enhancement might come through the vita-radiation or through intensive spiritual practice.”</p>
<p>“Dr. Erskine placed particular importance on the chest locus; he indicated it as his last act,” Shuri reminded them. “I cannot imagine he would have done so if that form of energy were lesser in any way.”</p>
<p>“Perhaps it confers not only obvious physical, sensory, and cognitive enhancements, but more subtle effects,” T’Challa speculated.</p>
<p>“Also, these energies are acting on two quite different people,” Shuri pointed out.</p>
<p>“He and I are not terribly dissimilar,” T’Challa objected.</p>
<p>“Certainly not opposites, as Steve was from Schmidt—to be blunt, one good, one evil,” said Shuri. “Each of you has primarily positive qualities, but they are not all the same qualities.”</p>
<p>“For example, you both have a strong presence that inspires confidence. Mr. Holden’s is friendly, warm, more dynamic. His highness’ is serene, dignified, more—royal, actually,” M’Gaji asserted.</p>
<p>“Huh,” Steve said. “I could buy that.” He looked questioningly at T’Challa.</p>
<p>“Our doctor is perceptive,” the king agreed as he resumed his seat. “Perhaps I have taken on the cat characteristics of my alter ego. You are more . . . puppylike. I mean that in the most complimentary way, of course,” he said as Steve frowned balefully, then grinned.</p>
<p>Shuri had been staring into the middle distance thinking, as she often did in such situations. “I recall an item from our previous discussion. Although you two have apparently similar skills and attributes, Steve was able to withstand and oppose Thanos more strongly than Black Panther. And survived contact with the Infinity Gauntlet during the Battle of Wakanda. I hope this observation does not cause distress, brother,” she said apologetically.</p>
<p>“Not at all. Undeniable and a valid point. What would you call this quality? Resolve? Courage? Willpower?” he asked Steve.</p>
<p>“No idea. I just . . . keep going. Sometimes, I don’t know how, or even why. But I do.” He half-smiled. “A scrappy old dog too dumb to run away from a fight.”</p>
<p>“You persevere even after you have been injured, or rendered unconscious,” T’Challa mused. “Or frozen for several decades.”</p>
<p>Steve winced. “It does take a lot to keep me down. But so far, no matter what’s happened, something inside eventually turns on. And I get back up.”</p>
<p>“It could be termed resilience,” Shuri suggested. “Or determination.”</p>
<p>M’Gaji offered solemnly, “Heart.”</p>
<p>“That fits,” agreed T’Challa. “I am reminded of seeing you facing down certain death when we arrived at the Battle of Earth.”</p>
<p>”In that fight, I wouldn’t have been able to survive to that point without the advantage of Thor’s hammer,” Steve said.</p>
<p>“I see. But it would be instructive to know <i>why</i> you could wield that advantage,” T’Challa suggested.</p>
<p>“Oh!” exclaimed Shuri, wide-eyed. “Mjolnir. Might this golden TDE represent the fabled ‘worthiness’?”</p>
<p>“Too speculative,” cautioned Steve. “People assume the ability to lift the hammer is vanishingly rare because we know of dozens who couldn’t. But that’s not many trials, really. Even if only one in a million can do it, that would equal over eight thousand people on this planet alone. Did you two ever try?”</p>
<p>T’Challa and Shuri shook their heads. “I was happy to leave it to you. Enchanted hammers that command strange lightning do not attract me,” the king explained.</p>
<p>“There is something creepily Euro-medieval about it,” Shuri said. “Witchcrafty. I wouldn’t want to touch it at all.”</p>
<p>“See? You might be able to pick it up but we’ll never know. There may be entire populations that have whatever quality allows it. We’ve no idea what the concept of ‘worthy’ in Odin’s spell actually relates to. There’s an assumption it’s a moral or character thing, due to the connotation of the word in English. But what did this godlike alien being really mean?”</p>
<p>Shuri surprised her three companions by bursting out laughing. “Ah, Steve, you are a character. Others would bask in the glory of being the only known human who can wield this powerful weapon. Instead you hide away from the world and argue that you are not so special.”</p>
<p>“Or perhaps this attitude points to why he is ‘worthy,’” T’Challa countered. “From the reports I read, Thor regained his ability to use Mjolnir after he sacrificed himself to save others. There is a correlation with Steve’s history in that respect.”</p>
<p>“And Vision’s, if future willingness counts,” Shuri said.</p>
<p>Steve pointed out, “During the Battle of New York, Tony carried a nuclear missile through a wormhole into space. It seemed suicidal at the time, and that was years before he failed to lift the hammer. Even if willingness to self-sacrifice is necessary, it’s apparently not sufficient.”</p>
<p>“As long as we are engaging in guesswork, we can tie in our study,” M’Gaji said thoughtfully. “Perhaps, in <i>addition</i> to extreme selflessness, ‘worthiness’ requires a robust TDE connection. We’ve documented yours. Vision had the Mind Stone embedded in his body, and we can safely assume it mediated transdimensional power. As for Thor: a flesh-and-blood being who can live for thousands of years must have some special rejuvenating source.”</p>
<p>“You may definitely have something there,” Shuri said eagerly.</p>
<p>“It seems there are many ways to achieve an expanded connection for TDE,” M’Gaji continued. “Previously we postulated the various serums, certain types of radiation, the Heart-Shaped Herb potion, and meditative practice.”</p>
<p>“We could add the Infinity Stones and whatever is going on inside Thor,” said T’Challa. “What else?”</p>
<p>“Possibly many more,” Steve asserted. “Especially if we assume some connections don’t yield conspicuous physical enhancements—like with the meditator lady. There could be people walking around chock full of TDE and no one knows, because they didn’t undergo some dramatic event and don’t have obvious ‘superpowers.’ It might make them extra tough, smart, long-lived, creative, or . . .” He paused and looked around at his companions. “Wait. I can think of a large group of people with many remarkable traits, who are associated with a particular substance.”</p>
<p>“Where?” asked Shuri.</p>
<p>“Here,” replied Steve. “His highness speaks of Wakandan exceptionalism. Much of that derives from vibranium, doesn’t it?”</p>
<p>“Yes. It has helped us develop as a people—or as a coalition of tribes—in a way that is different from our neighbors,” T’Challa acknowledged.</p>
<p>“Maybe it’s not only what vibranium allows through the technology it yields. The Heart-Shaped Herb contains it, correct? So it’s at least part of a mechanism to increase TDE. The fabric of Vision’s body contains it as well. There must be trace amounts in Wakanda’s water, the food, building materials, probably the air. Natives of the country are exposed to it throughout their lives.”</p>
<p>“You may be right. Even we who have studied the substance for centuries do not believe we have exhausted its properties,” Shuri said.</p>
<p>“The Golden City,” M’Gaji said softly.</p>
<p>“Keeping this study secret makes it difficult to expand, but it would be interesting to see whether Wakandans have more TDE than other people,” said Steve.</p>
<p>T’Challa cocked his head and regarded the American. “This may be a tangent, but: How did you come to possess your original shield?”</p>
<p>“Howard was touting different options in his workshop. I spotted the shield on a shelf and picked it up. It didn’t have any decoration then.”</p>
<p>“Why did you choose it?”</p>
<p>“I don’t really know. The metal immediately attracted me—I knew it was different. The shield just seemed right.”</p>
<p>“Did a subtle resonance of the vibranium make it ‘feel’ right to you?” wondered T’Challa. “Perhaps it was a catalyst or intensifier for your TDE, as you postulate for Wakandans. Did you miss the shield when you relinquished it?”</p>
<p>“I did,” Steve said quietly. “More than I admitted to anyone. I was so used to having it near me.”</p>
<p>“I do not think it was mere force of habit. I keep offering a replacement because it feels so inappropriate for you to be without one.”</p>
<p>“I understand. But if your assumption is true, then I don’t need it anymore.”</p>
<p>“Why not?” Shuri asked.</p>
<p>“I live in ‘vibranium central’ now. Maybe one reason I’ve always liked Wakanda. It feels right, not strange or foreign at all.”</p>
<p>The king grinned. “You do fit in remarkably well.”</p>
<p>M’Gaji finished the notes she’d been frenziedly writing during the discussion. She sat back and said offhandedly to T’Challa, “You should give this fellow a bonus, your highness. He has been rather helpful today.”</p>
<p>“Indeed,” T’Challa responded. With a suave smile, he turned to Steve and said, “I find that your prior reputation for creativity, perspicacity, and logic does not correlate well with the reality we observe.”</p>
<p>Steve shrugged. “You don’t have to sugarcoat it. Indeed, I’m not as dumb as people assume. When you associate with obvious geniuses who have multiple advanced degrees, it’s hard for a high-school graduate to appear smart. No one looked to me for intellectual insights. I had other abilities to contribute and was expected to keep to my lane. The Design Group is more welcoming, despite being led by an extraordinary mind. Kat and I appreciate that.”</p>
<p>“We respect you both as well,” Shuri assured him. “Practical experience is of great value, in tandem with scientific method and theory. As well, intuition and inspiration should not be disregarded as tools of science and technology. Data collection, laboratory experiments, calculations, and statistical analysis have their place. Flashes of insight can be wonderfully efficient in directing those efforts.”</p>
<p>“The ‘Eureka!’ story about Archimedes is well known for a reason,” noted M’Gaji.</p>
<p>“Our group will continue to gather data, and we have the help of wise and perceptive associates. With a dose of good fortune, we may have our own eureka moment for this project—soon,” Shuri declared.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0067"><h2>67. Leap of Faith</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Rating: Teen and Up<br/>Content note: mild sexual situations</p>
<p>Natasha and Steve have a lazy morning going through her salvaged possessions. Eventually they get around to a heavy conversation and a big decision.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Natasha sat on the floor with her back to Steve, who was perched in one of their living room chairs. She sighed blissfully as he massaged her scalp, a preliminary to combing out her hair. In bed that morning, after a slow awakening on a rare weekday with nothing on their schedules, he’d luxuriously scratched her back, given her a shoulder rub, and undone her braid. One thing had led to another, and those activities had tousled her hair thoroughly.</p>
<p>They were lounging in workout clothes, still undecided about what to do with a free day leading into a lazy weekend. T’Challa was booked with meetings so Steve’s usual Friday date was out, and the revision of the code Nat was set to test for WDG wouldn’t be ready until Monday. They could find other work to do, but more idle time together beckoned. They’d had a light breakfast in and planned to take their Chef Gana lunch up on the terrace.</p>
<p>Nat pulled an opened corrugated box across the diamond pattern sisal rug toward her. Closing her eyes and reaching inside, she said, “This shipment from the Bartons is like grab-bag Christmas. What random possession will pop up next?” She drew out a lacy fuchsia brassiere and hooted with laughter. “The damnedest things survived.”</p>
<p>“Jackpot! Those are expensive,” Steve pointed out, beginning to detangle her hair with a wide-toothed comb. “So. Who were you impressing with such skivvies?”</p>
<p>“Myself,” she replied. “Sometimes a girl likes to dress fancy under her work clothes. I frequently wore this one with my tac suit. And no shirt.”</p>
<p>“I’m glad I didn’t know that. Would’ve been a bit distracting.”</p>
<p>“Made me feel more like a regular person. Implacable human weapons don’t bother with frilly undies.” Natasha sniffed. “Nice. Laura must’ve washed the salvaged clothes to get the smoke out. But it’s probably too small for me right now, alas.”</p>
<p>“Oh, your breasts have gotten bigger, how awful,” he said in a blasé tone.</p>
<p>She tossed the bra over her shoulder and Steve laughed as it landed on his head. “Help, I’m being flogged by lingerie!”</p>
<p>“You deserve it. It’s not just my boobs growing. My tummy, too. I’m getting fat and you are entirely unsympathetic.”</p>
<p>“That’s right. You’re gorgeous and wonderful and I love you and nothing’s going to change that, including an expanding waistline. So there.” He draped the bra over the back of the chair.</p>
<p>“Jeez, you’re no fun. How am I supposed to dread your sudden but inevitable betrayal and rejection if you talk like that? Where’s the exciting conflict?”</p>
<p>“Let’s continue without the drama for awhile and see how long it takes us to get bored. Whaddaya say?”</p>
<p>“A daring experiment,” Natasha replied, chuckling. She reached into the container again and came up with a gaudily painted jewelry box.</p>
<p>“Aw, sweet. I’m glad this made it. Clint gave it to me not long after I got to the States. It was a joke but I kind of love the kitsch.” She opened it. The lid contained a small mirror, which reflected a plastic, lace-tutued ballerina about five centimeters high, mounted on a spring. It popped up when the lid opened, and began to rotate. An embedded music box played a tinny version of “Tiny Dancer.”</p>
<p>“That thing must be built like a tank to function after an alien attack,” Steve marveled. “Is there jewelry in it?”</p>
<p>“Yeah, but there’s a note on top,” she replied, unfolding a piece of lined yellow paper. “It says: ‘Dear Nat, An item from one of the other memorial tables got mixed in with your stuff somehow and shipped to us. I didn’t tell Clint because he would’ve sent it back right away but I thought you might like to have it. If you don’t you can return it with anything you want us to distribute to friends. Love, Laura.’”</p>
<p>“That note’s pretty bad from an opsec point of view. If someone had gone through that box . . .”</p>
<p>“Yeah. Amateurs, what’re ya gonna do? I’ll mention it in our next call. Fortunately the seals were intact when delivered, and I had it shipped through a service that specializes in the clandestine. Wonder what she’s talking about.”</p>
<p>Natasha pawed through the jewelry, which included a charm bracelet with a cloisonné Cap shield she’d bought on impulse as a keepsake. She’d never worn it, and certainly never disclosed to Steve she owned it.</p>
<p>Sifted to the bottom of the box was a simple steel ball chain that didn’t seem familiar. She held it up and examined what was attached.</p>
<p>“Ooh, look.”</p>
<p>He leaned sideways and saw a set of old dog tags. “They’re not—”</p>
<p>“They are. Cool.”</p>
<p>“I left them in my apartment. Definitely shouldn’t wear ‘em anymore. You can send it back to the Bartons.”</p>
<p>“No way.” Natasha clutched them to her chest. “Mine now. My own little bit of World War II history.”</p>
<p>“If you keep them, doesn’t that go against your pretense that you want nothing to do with me?”</p>
<p>She frowned, then got an idea that made her grin like a maniac. “I’ll say I plan to sell them online, anonymously, to the highest bidder. Ha-ha, they will shit themselves!”</p>
<p>“Oh God, you really like to drum up drama, don’t you? I’m done, by the way,” Steve said, running the comb through her hair one more time. “I admit to mild curiosity about what happened to the rest of my belongings.”</p>
<p>Natasha looked over her shoulder. “Thanks for the detangle. Didn’t Shuri tell you? She talked to Bucky yesterday and he mentioned it.”</p>
<p>Steve’s eyebrows went up. “No, I haven’t seen her since Wednesday.”</p>
<p>She turned around. “Your items at the memorial service, and the other things salvaged from your HQ office, are stored away. They plan a future Avengers museum. Somebody’s probably freaking out that your tags are missing. They’re keeping the stuff on the down low so a certain national institution doesn’t make a bid for control. The rest is still in the Brooklyn apartment. TAO’s lawyer lady thought to check on it and found the rent was in arrears in December. The Foundation paid up and is keeping the place till the courts decide what to do with your assets. Your name’s still on the lease, but the organization can use it as a crash pad when people go down to the city.”</p>
<p>“Interesting. All that stuff is from my 21st century life. The only things from the old days that survived are either in the Smithsonian or the Avengers collection. Except for the dog tags you just stole.”</p>
<p>“And the compass you left in 1949. I think you’ll miss the monkey sketch.”</p>
<p>“You know me well. I sure wouldn’t mind having the old shield, but there’s no getting hold of that or the sketch now. TAO will be lucky if they manage to keep them. Of the recent items, the only things I really wish I had are the jokey Valentine’s Day cards you gave me one year.”</p>
<p>She laughed. “Right, that was 2013. I admit to being tipsy when I asked you to be my anti-Valentine. I bought some for everybody—on sale on the fifteenth—so you wouldn’t suspect I might be sweet on you.”</p>
<p>“Mine said: ‘I’m not yours, you’re not mine, be my anti-Valentine.’ ‘You suck less than most people.’ ‘Love disappoints, but pizza is eternal.’ And, ‘We’ll be friends forever, because you already know too much.’”</p>
<p>“I can’t believe you remember all that crap.”</p>
<p>“I do have a good memory, and besides, you gave them to me. Even signed ‘em.”</p>
<p>Natasha’s eyes widened. “That reminds me. I wonder if . . .” She rummaged through the box.</p>
<p>“What?”</p>
<p>She brandished the four-leaf-clover bookmark. “Yay, it’s here!”</p>
<p>He laughed. “You kept that? Lamest gift ever.”</p>
<p>“Not true. Unless you lied and you didn’t actually find the clover yourself?”</p>
<p>“I did indeed. That was the easy part. I was sitting in the grass after a run one day and it was right there next to me. The hard part was the inscription. Took me twenty minutes sweating over what to write. I almost didn’t.”</p>
<p>She handed the bookmark to him and he noted her printing on the reverse. “You put my name on it? That’s adorable.”</p>
<p>“I like having ‘Steve’ on things of mine, I guess. I knew I’d keep it forever. Or at least as long as I could.”</p>
<p>“Yeah. I know what you mean.” He reached toward her. Natasha settled onto his lap and they snuggled contentedly.</p>
<p>“Have you figured out what you want to return?” Steve asked.</p>
<p>“Easier to list what I’m <i>not</i> sending back. The clothing. It’s useful and would be weird as keepsakes for friends. ‘Have Nat’s bra to remember her by!’ Other than that: the portrait by you, my medal and the silly jewelry box to keep it in, and the bookmark. Maybe one or two items of jewelry.”</p>
<p>“They’ll be after Clint to donate the medal for the museum.”</p>
<p>“He can tell them to sod off. They can get a replica from the DNI’s office. It’s not unique, like this.”</p>
<p>Steve dangled the bookmark by its long ribbon, and she nudged it so it swung like a pendulum. “Given what’s happened in the past few months, it must be extra special good luck.”</p>
<p>“I agree,” he said over her head, tucked under his chin.</p>
<p>Steve was apprehensive about bringing a heavy topic into the tranquil, amusing conversation. They’d done serious emotional work since he’d returned, but the past three weeks had been mostly fun and fluffy between them. He was certainly less fond of drama than his roommate. But it seemed like a good time, with nothing pressing on the near horizon, to broach a big issue.</p>
<p>“There’s something I’d like to ask you,” he began.</p>
<p>Natasha’s body tensed almost imperceptibly, though Steve noticed. He assumed she was apprehensive. In reality, she was eager.</p>
<p>Was this it? “Sure,” Nat said nonchalantly.</p>
<p>“Do you have a feel for how long you’d like to live in Wakanda? Or do you want to try somewhere else fairly soon?”</p>
<p>She sat up. “Well, we have a slew of positive things going on here. Friends, jobs, art, nature, my new classes. I feel safe and secure, and there’s a lot of potential for us if we stay put. Is there a reason you’re looking for a commitment?” Nat inserted key words to steer the dialogue in a productive direction. She preferred to think of it as inspiration rather than manipulation.</p>
<p>“At Design Group we were discussing how at home you and I feel here, and how welcoming everyone has been. And I told you about my talk with T’Challa last Friday. He’d like me to stick around, and clearly would prefer if I committed to X amount of time. I said I couldn’t make any promises until I found out where you want to live long term.”</p>
<p>“I appreciate being included, but it’s not completely up to me.”</p>
<p>“Eh, it kind of is. You’ve always had itchier feet than I do,” said Steve.</p>
<p>“You told me in November that if I wanted to go back to the US we’d have to do a long-distance relationship—you’d stay here.”</p>
<p>He gave her a squeeze. “That was then. Now, my feeling is ‘Whithersoever thou shalt go, I will go, and where thou shalt dwell, I also will dwell.’”</p>
<p>“Ah, Book of Ruth. Classy,” Natasha said.</p>
<p>“Surprised you know where that’s from.”</p>
<p>“We studied the Bible as a cultural artifact. Helpful to manipulate a religious person. I’ve read the Russian Orthodox version cover to cover, more than once. So I know the story is about two women.”</p>
<p>“Doesn’t matter. Devotion is devotion.”</p>
<p>Nat laid her head on his shoulder and chose her words carefully. “You do appear to be pretty darn committed to this relationship.”</p>
<p>“Absolutely,” he said, wrapping his arms securely around her.</p>
<p>“Should we make a formal agreement to be exclusive with each other, for the foreseeable future? Would that make you happy?”</p>
<p>Steve kissed her forehead and said, “Natasha.”</p>
<p>She raised her head to look directly at him. His tone was one she recognized. A shift to utter seriousness—no fooling, no bullshit.</p>
<p>He spoke deliberately. “Navigating these issues with you is difficult. I always feel like I’m walking on eggshells. Let me say it this way. I’m an old-fashioned guy, and I’ve always been at ease with commitment. You’re a modern gal, and you’ve made it clear that you never have. And you’ve experienced terrible abuse and trauma that I can’t, and shouldn’t, tell you how to deal with. I decided it’s better to let you guide the course of the relationship. That way you won’t feel trapped or under any pressure whatsoever. I want you to be happy and comfortable. So I’ll never . . .” He stopped.</p>
<p>“Never what?” she prompted gently.</p>
<p>How could he put this without alarming her, exactly what he was trying to avoid? “I’ll never ask you questions that would scare you. Questions you don’t want to answer.”</p>
<p>He was treating her like a delicate flower. It was sweet, but she couldn’t let him. “That’s not fair to you. I’m a grownup, and I’m doing better now. Better than ever. If there’s something you want to know, you can ask and I promise I won’t freak out. However, I reserve the right to say ‘I can’t answer now’ if need be.”</p>
<p>Steve shook his head. “I appreciate the effort, but for me, it’s easier not to go there.” He smiled faintly. “It’s all right. I can live with ambiguity. You’ve helped me learn that I don’t need to have all the answers, all the time. That I can survive in between, in the shades of gray.”</p>
<p>“It’s honestly a good skill to have. But sometimes a situation does need to be clarified.” Natasha was ninety percent sure she knew what he wanted to say, and she one hundred percent knew how she’d respond if he did.</p>
<p>She looked him straight in his unfathomable blue eyes. “Steve. Ask me what you want to ask me.”</p>
<p>He looked away from her intense green gaze. “I’m afraid to.”</p>
<p>He’d never actually had to ask Peggy—once he’d explained himself upon arrival, there seemed no other option. They’d planned the particulars with no one popping any questions. He wasn’t prepared for this today.</p>
<p>“You’ve got nothing to fear,” Natasha assured him. “You know how much I love you.”</p>
<p>“Yes. But it’s a big step. You’re more important to me than anything.”</p>
<p>“I know,” she said, placing her palm over his heart. “Ask me.”</p>
<p>Even though she was basically ordering him to do it, heavily implying her answer, Steve hesitated. It was still a leap of faith. He took a deep breath and met her eyes.</p>
<p>“Natasha, will—”</p>
<p>He saw her lips move and heard her speaking the same words as he.</p>
<p>“Will you marry me?” they asked simultaneously.</p>
<p>As the momentous words echoed in their minds, they smiled at one another in wonder at what had just happened.</p>
<p>“I couldn’t quite say it on my own. I needed you to start me off,” Nat explained in a small voice.</p>
<p>“Glad I could help. We should answer, you know. It’s only polite.”</p>
<p>Their smiles became radiant after they both said, “Yes.”</p>
<p>Heads together, arms locked tight around each other, they embraced for a minute without moving, without speaking.</p>
<p>In the silent interim, as the blissful haze settled, it occurred to Steve that Natasha had achieved a certain level of commitment, but pinning her down further could be troublesome. He resolved to tread carefully.</p>
<p>He kissed her neck and then murmured against it, “I have another question.”</p>
<p>“You’re chock full of curiosity today,” she said playfully, and sat back. “I liked your first two questions, so shoot.”</p>
<p>“Do you want to say, we’ll definitely get married someday, when the time is right? Or do you want to be specific?”</p>
<p>Natasha said forthrightly, “I think we should set a date.”</p>
<p>This sounded promising. “How far in the future? A year? Two?” Steve asked.</p>
<p>“How about next month?”</p>
<p>He blinked at her, startled. “Really?”</p>
<p>“Sure,” she answered breezily. “I’d say tomorrow, but we have to figure out who’s going to officiate, what kind of ceremony, where, who to invite, all that.”</p>
<p>“Oh. Wow. That’s . . .” Steve was as moved as he had been when they’d said yes. His dream was actually going to come true, before anything could intervene.</p>
<p>Natasha caressed his cheek. She could feel the love radiating off the man. “I am definitely ready to do this,” she said. “No walls in my mind come up when I think about it. I believe it’s partly because of the healing in my brain. But mostly because it’s you. You make commitment joyful, not a burden. I’m thrilled to plight the hell out of my troth, to you. Are you OK with moving quickly?”</p>
<p>“Very much so,” Steve said. “We’ve had more than a decade to get to know each other, even though this phase of our relationship hasn’t been long.”</p>
<p>“And life is short, Rogers.”</p>
<p>“Agreed, Romanov.”</p>
<p>“So who’s getting married?” She watched his puzzlement, then he had an “aha” moment.</p>
<p>“You mean, do we have an unofficial thing as ourselves, or are Sheen and Holden going to get hitched?”</p>
<p>“Right. I think the ceremony should be in our own names and personas. Only invite those who know,” Natasha suggested.</p>
<p>“Great. If we decide it’s a good idea for ‘them’ to be married, that can happen with fake paperwork anytime,” Steve added.</p>
<p>“Yeah, we have an interesting relationship with the law at the moment.”</p>
<p>“It’s rare that we don’t,” he said with a chuckle. “Story of our lives.”</p>
<p>“Story of our life,” she amended.</p>
<p>“We really are sharing one big life now, huh?” he said with a heart-melting smile.</p>
<p>“Absolutely, totally, and utterly,” she answered. “You told me Christmas Day that you were mine. I couldn’t quite speak it, but I was yours then and I am now. I’m ready to be together forever.”</p>
<p>His intensity was almost fierce as he echoed her, willing it to be true. “Yes. Forever.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0068"><h2>68. Possibilities</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Rating: Teen and Up<br/>Content Notes: None</p>
<p>Steve and Natasha discuss where they want to live and what marriage could mean for their lives.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hey everybody! I’ve changed the main Summary for the fic to better reflect the whole shebang as it has evolved. Space is tight so I’ve used every single bit provided. I’d appreciate feedback on it, whether you’re an old hand who’s already read up to this point or are just starting out. Thanks!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Natasha brought two steaming cups of Ceylon tea over to the living room bench. She sat down beside Steve and handed him his, milky and sweet as he preferred. Hers was plain black; she’d eliminated her usual honey to save calories.</p>
<p>“Thank you. So, how do you feel about starting on wedding plans?” Steve asked brightly. “Or do you want to sleep on this first?”</p>
<p>“No need. Let’s talk,” she said, and gulped down a slug of tea to fortify herself. “The ceremony won’t be big because of our situation, but it’s important to share the moment with friends. And then we can party.”</p>
<p>“Will you tell the Bartons you’re engaged? Not to me, but to the mysterious boyfriend.”</p>
<p>Natasha shook her head. “I won’t. At least not right away. It would freak out Clint, who’s already suspicious of said sudden boyfriend. And it would make Laura sad that she can’t be there.”</p>
<p>“Yeah.” Steve’s happy expression had dimmed. “That’s the only disappointment—our US friends won’t be involved. Or even know about it. In the old days, I assumed if I were ever lucky enough to have a wedding, Bucky would be my best man. And now he’s Returned, but it still can’t be.”</p>
<p>“It’s the price we pay for reinventing ourselves,” Nat said with a regretful shrug. “At some point we may feel comfortable resurfacing—either completely, or like I have with Clint and Laura. It’d be nice to let people know we’re OK. We should wait until the TAO structure and teams are fully accepted and successful, so nobody cares that you and I are theoretically available.”</p>
<p>“Until we’ve been gone long enough that people say, ‘Oh, those names sound familiar. Didn’t they use to be Avengers or something?’”</p>
<p>“Dream on, buddy. That would be decades at minimum. You’re in the history books and Okoye is doing her dead level best to make sure I’m a household name. I’m talking about a quiet reveal to certain people, maybe within a couple of years.”</p>
<p>Steve looked dubious. “On one hand, I’d love to be in touch with our friends. On the other—they’d be really mad we didn’t tell them right away.”</p>
<p>“True. I cringe to think what Wanda would say if she found out.”</p>
<p>“Or do, even inadvertently.”</p>
<p>“When she’s upset, she can make things explode,” Natasha agreed.</p>
<p>“If and when you tell her where you are, make that first call very long distance,” Steve advised.</p>
<p>“You too.”</p>
<p>“Eh, if she finds out about me it won’t be a big deal. But you were like family.”</p>
<p>“She felt close to you too, Steve. If you don’t mind telling me, what did you write in your farewell letter?”</p>
<p>“There wasn’t one. I didn’t suppose it’d be very meaningful to her.”</p>
<p>“What? You were the one who brought her in, with Pietro. She looked up to you.”</p>
<p>“It felt presumptuous to assume she’d be particularly upset that I left. Especially compared to what she was going through over losing Vision and you.”</p>
<p>Natasha rolled her eyes. “I’ll give you a little clue: a teenage girl, especially one who’s been through hell, isn’t comfortable having a grown man sit on her bed to chat unless she trusts and admires him—a lot. She didn’t mind at all.”</p>
<p>“I guess that <i>was</i> kind of unusual; I’m lucky she was OK with it. I assumed I was like her boring, uptight uncle-slash-boss. And, you know, she could throw me through a wall if she wanted to.”</p>
<p>“She knew she’d never have to. Wanda thought you were the nicest man ever, especially for a total badass. She wanted your approval.”</p>
<p>“Oh. I must have disappointed her, then,” Steve said sadly. “In my letters to the boys, I did ask them to look after her. Emotionally; not any other way. She’s got that covered.”</p>
<p>Nat sighed. “If she ever sees you again, you’re gonna be in trouble.”</p>
<p>“At the moment, I’m more concerned about getting in trouble with our friends here,” Steve countered. “We need to be careful about choosing who’s going to conduct the wedding, who’s best man and best woman, who gets to speak. Who will be hurt if they’re not in it?”</p>
<p>“No officiant needed—this isn’t a legal ceremony,” Nat pointed out. “We don’t have to do things according to European or American traditions at all. Or Wakandan, for that matter.”</p>
<p>“You’re right. We can design it any way we want.”</p>
<p>“It shouldn’t be hard to make our friends here feel included. My main question is where to hold the ceremony. Someplace private but beautiful and meaningful.”</p>
<p>“Adongo Falls would be lovely, but it’s too far away,” he mused.</p>
<p>“And loud. You’re right, we can’t be out of town for long because this event involves the entire upper echelon of government.”</p>
<p>“I have an idea,” Steve said, holding up an index finger and looking pleased with himself. “The top of Mount Milara has a spectacular view of the city. I’ve spent time up there with T’Challa; there’s enough room for everybody. By air it’s a few minutes away. We could ask Dambu to take us up, see what you think.”</p>
<p>“Sure, we’ll check it out. The easiest thing would be to have the wedding on the grounds here, but I’d like to get outside our cocoon for a special occasion,” Natasha said. “Later we can have a party inside the palace. We’ll be secure from outsider eyes, so we can use our real names and get as drunk and silly as we want.”</p>
<p>“You’ll have to handle the drunken part. I’ll work on silly. But are we presuming too much? Will they let foreigners throw a private party on royal government property?”</p>
<p>“Are you kidding? Shuri and Ramonda would probably be mad if we <i>didn’t</i> have the reception here.”</p>
<p>Steve smiled and nodded. “Yeah, you’re right. But thinking of them reminds me of another question—the one I posed this morning before we got sidetracked into this whole ‘getting married’ thing,” said Steve. “How long do you want to stay in Wakanda?”</p>
<p>“Today I’ve practiced committing to something, so I’m warmed up. I say we commit to live in Wakanda for at least a year,” Nat declared.</p>
<p>“I’ll sign on with that,” Steve said. “Do we stay right here or move out?”</p>
<p>“It’s great here, but I feel bad because Ebedu Kola told me they’ve been lodging visitors in the Design Group guest suites instead of the palace ones. They’re letting us have privacy so we don’t have to wear disguises on the secure floors.”</p>
<p>“I didn’t realize that. So accommodating.”</p>
<p>“But at some point a VIP guest will need to be inside the palace and we’ll have to mask up. Then again, we’d do it every day if we moved anywhere else,” said Natasha.</p>
<p>“I’m fine with staying where we are. This apartment is plenty for us, comfortable, and convenient, VIP neighbors or no,” Steve said. “That could change if we . . .” He trailed off, stopping himself from stumbling into a touchy subject.</p>
<p>“You’re walking on eggshells again, I can tell,” Natasha accused. “Go on, say what’s on your mind. I can deal.”</p>
<p>Steve took a deep breath and forged ahead. “If we wanted to adopt.” He watched her apprehensively.</p>
<p>Nat stared at him, astonished. “I’ve assumed for a very long time I’d never have that kind of family. Is that something you want?”</p>
<p>“What I want is to be with you, and for you to be happy. Your choice about whether to bear children was taken from you, but I know you enjoy Clint and Laura’s kids and you’re really good with them. If you’d like to adopt some younguns, I’m on board. But I can go either way.”</p>
<p>“Wow. Didn’t imagine I’d ever get to a point where this would be an option. It brings up some thorny questions,” she said with a frown.</p>
<p>“I know. If we want a family, should we stay in Wakanda? If we did, who do we adopt, and how?”</p>
<p>“Right. I mean, would we import children? That feels weird. And raising white kids means they appear to be outsiders in the country they grow up in.”</p>
<p>“I’d prefer to adopt locally, but the research I’ve seen on cross-racial adoptions shows there are numerous serious issues,” Steve noted. “It’s unclear whether we’d even be allowed to. It would be unprecedented in Wakanda, since so few foreigners live here.”</p>
<p>“Been reading up on adopting, hmm?”</p>
<p>He looked sheepish. “Studying options, just in case. No harm in getting current information.”</p>
<p>She reached over and squeezed his hand. “You’re adorable. Did you just read about it, or did you talk to anybody?”</p>
<p>“To N’Talia, actually. She has a niece who works in social services here in the capital, so she’s been feeding me information on the down low.”</p>
<p>“I’m surprised you disclosed to your tutor that our relationship had progressed this far.”</p>
<p>“She’s been completely convinced from day one that you and I were destined to marry,” Steve said, shaking his head. “I could’ve sworn on a stack of Bibles that we weren’t serious and she wouldn’t have believed me. I couch my adoption questions in terms of ‘maybe someday’ but she just smiles knowingly.”</p>
<p>Nat nodded. “It’s OK. I talked with Desta about N’Talia weeks ago and she gave her the thumbs up. I trust her not to disclose anything about us.”</p>
<p>“An idea she passed on from her niece is to take classes so we could sign up as foster parents. It would help out kids in tough situations but they wouldn’t be stuck with us expatriates on a permanent basis.”</p>
<p>“That might be a way to do a lot of good without—oh, wait. Who do these adopted or foster children think we are? Holden and Sheen, or ourselves? Do we wear disguises around our own kids?”</p>
<p>“Whoa. Yeah. Might depend on the age.” Steve closed his eyes for a second to clear his head. “Maybe we’re getting too far out over our skis here. We’ve got time to consult with people, look at all the angles, make the right decisions. No use getting ourselves tied up in knots about it an hour after, uh, deciding to tie the knot.”</p>
<p>“Yeah, we’ll sleep on that one. A lot,” Natasha said. “We’ve got time. As much as we want.”</p>
<p>He smiled and put an arm around her. “Years and years. Makes me think of one of my favorite fantasies about you.”</p>
<p>“Ooh, do tell,” she said eagerly.</p>
<p>“Growing old together.”</p>
<p>Natasha laughed. “What? That’s not exactly erotic.”</p>
<p>“No, but it’s a sweet one. I imagine holding hands with you, relaxing somewhere. On the porch of our house, or at a beach, or somewhere else warm and peaceful. We’re old and slow and definitely no longer implacable human weapons. We tell stories, talk about what we had for lunch, make each other laugh. Edgy stuff like that.”</p>
<p>“Totally decadent,” said Nat with a smirk.</p>
<p>“Now that it could actually happen, I let myself think about it more than I used to.” Steve couldn’t tell her exactly why the scenario captivated him: because of the fear in the back of his mind that those years could be stolen from them by his promise on Vormir. He yearned for that tranquil, idyllic future so much it almost hurt.</p>
<p>The two of them gazed at each other, reveling in the presence of the person they loved most, gradually becoming comfortable with the idea of being engaged. Then Steve had an idea.</p>
<p>He leaned down and picked up the jewelry box from the rug. Opening it, he was about to retrieve the dog tags she’d replaced in it, but noticed something else. He pulled out the white gold charm bracelet with the tiny shield attached.</p>
<p>“What do we have here?” he asked, amused. He closed the lid of the box to silence the music.</p>
<p>Natasha squirmed a little with embarrassment. “Um, remember that whole thing back in the summer of 2012 about licensing a line of jewelry?”</p>
<p>“Yeah. I was against it but SHIELD wanted to capitalize. Interest in the Avengers was high after New York. Did you cop a free prototype?” Steve swung the bracelet. “You should’ve gotten the set.”</p>
<p>“I was closely involved with the project. Those guys were cheapskates. They coughed up only one complete set and it’s still at HQ—if it survived the attack.”</p>
<p>“They should have at least comped you the Black Widow one.”</p>
<p>“They totally should’ve, but them’s the breaks,” she said with a shrug. “No, I bought that charm in October that year.”</p>
<p>“Why?”</p>
<p>“We’d done quite a few operations together by that time. Then you went on your first solo. In Martinique.”</p>
<p>“Right,” Steve confirmed. “A simple recon and object retrieval.”</p>
<p>“The situation required certain abilities to access the location, and you were the obvious choice.”</p>
<p>“Had to jump some walls and breach some doors, yeah. Iron Man would’ve been conspicuous, and it was too routine for Tony to be interested anyway.”</p>
<p>“I argued we should both go, but it was low-risk and you speak French, so Fury wanted me to continue working on the plan for the Kilkenny mission. By the second day you were gone, I was stressed. On our ops, I saw you in all sorts of danger and it didn’t bother me much—it was in the flow and we were there together. But left behind, I felt anxious and vulnerable,” Natasha admitted.</p>
<p>“Anxious I get, but vulnerable?”</p>
<p>“I obviously wasn’t in any danger; it was a sympathetic fear. I hated that no one was with you to watch your six. More specifically, I wasn’t. No question that it was ridiculous, but I couldn’t shake the feeling. I saw the charm in a store window and went in and got it.”</p>
<p>“I’m surprised you risked being recognized buying something like that,” he said, raising an eyebrow.</p>
<p>“I put on an accent and different mannerisms and the clerk didn’t bat an eye.” Nat sighed. “Total impulse purchase. A talisman I could put in my pocket or bag and touch occasionally, to remind me you’re eminently capable of protecting yourself.” She leaned against him. “At that point I had to admit to myself I was seriously smitten. I resolved to get over it, hard-nosed professional that I was. See how well that turned out.”</p>
<p>He smiled and patted her knee. “Makes me think I should’ve gotten one of the spider charms, for the same purpose. Whenever you were off alone, or even with Clint, I was low-level worried all the time, though I was good at pretending I wasn’t. When you disappeared after SHIELD went down, it was rough. I evolved a kind of mantra: ‘She’ll be fine. She can take care of herself better than you can.’”</p>
<p>“Which way did you mean that?”</p>
<p>Steve laughed. “Both, really.” He put the bracelet back in the box, saying, “I’m glad neither of us needs a charm for comfort anymore.” Then he drew out the chain with the dog tags.</p>
<p>Natasha looked at him curiously. “You changed your mind about wearing those?”</p>
<p>“No.” He eased the chain over her head, moved her hair out from under it, and settled the tags on her chest. “I wanted to see how they’d look. Though it’d be bad opsec for you to wear these outside the palace, even under clothing.”</p>
<p>“Yeah, not good if I got in an accident and an EMT or someone saw them.”</p>
<p>“Have you ever heard of the tradition of a boy giving a girl his class ring? She’d wear it on a necklace.”</p>
<p>“I think I saw it in an old movie. To show they’re ‘going steady,’ right?”</p>
<p>“Uh-huh. You said you like to have my name on things of yours. Even yourself?”</p>
<p>Natasha examined the worn stamped metal, turning it over in her fingers. Then she held it tightly. “Yes. I can wear them in secure areas, after all. Next to my skin,” she said, tucking the tags and chain under her shirt.</p>
<p>She looked at Steve with a sly grin. “Are you giving me ‘engagement tags’?”</p>
<p>His brilliant smile was all the answer she needed.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0069"><h2>69. Pursuing Happiness</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Rating: Mature, then Explicit<br/>Content Note: graphic depictions of sex; two F bombs</p>
<p>This chapter is mostly Mature rated but it takes a turn into E. If you aren’t into that, just stop reading when they go into the bedroom. </p>
<p>The newly affianced Natasha and Steve can’t keep their hands off each other, but as usual also keep up a meaningful conversation.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“You want more?” Steve asked with his hand out, and Natasha passed him her empty cup with a nod.</p>
<p>She watched approvingly as he unfolded himself and headed to the kitchen. While she’d known him, he’d always been sexy—the boy couldn’t help it—but she’d observed a new assurance in him that heightened the effect. He now allowed his gaze to rest on her with desire even when he knew she could see him. In the old days, he’d kept his eyes to himself; only a handful of times she’d caught him looking at her in a way that betrayed attraction or even curiosity. Nat was a past master at catching people looking—and knowing what each look meant.</p>
<p>Natasha followed him to the counter as he reached up into the cupboard for the tea canister. She ran her hands from his shoulders, down his back, and over the curvaceous transition to his thighs. Since he’d disclosed his assumptions about why she’d fallen for him, she had stopped gushing about his looks. But if she admired his physique with her hands instead of words, he was more than fine with it.</p>
<p>Steve glanced over his shoulder with an eyebrow arched. “Should I turn this teapot on, or wait till you’re ready for me to make it hot?”</p>
<p>“Cute,” Natasha said, snuggling against his back. “I’m more ready for you than the tea.”</p>
<p>He turned around. The hunger in how he looked at her made her almost lightheaded. He leaned down for a kiss, his thick hair spilling forward; he hadn’t had it cut since he returned from the past and it had grown two inches in nine weeks. His hands slid deftly under her waistband to fondle her hips and bottom.</p>
<p>A thrill surged through her at his sure, intimate touch. Steve had definitely emerged from the repressed, uptight mode of most of his life, and she was astonished almost daily at what a passionate creature he was. Maybe he <i>was</i> making up for lost time.</p>
<p>“Can I ask you a very personal question?” Nat murmured against his lips.</p>
<p>“Today’s a good day for intimate Q and A,” he answered. “Go for it.”</p>
<p>“Do you walk around horny all the time? I mean—because you <i>can</i> always do it, do you always want to?”</p>
<p>“No, thank goodness. That’d be terribly distracting.” Considering his answer further, he kissed her forehead. “It’s like food. I have a high metabolism, I enjoy eating, and I do it a lot when I can. But if I skip more than one meal, my body adjusts to the lack. You’ve seen it—I can go a long time without eating, and I don’t feel overly hungry.”</p>
<p>Natasha nodded, remembering an operation that stranded them for four days in a barren Canadian wilderness. He’d given her the emergency rations because she would suffer more with little food—and run out of energy long before he would.</p>
<p>“Kinda the same with sex,” Steve continued. “If I don’t have anyone to do it with, I’m not ‘hungry’ constantly. I mean, I’d think about it sometimes, have yearnings and little fantasies. And, uh, solo endeavors. No more than before I went through the Rebirth process, though. Actually, it was worse back then. I wasn’t as busy, and I couldn’t go lift weights or hit a bag or run twenty miles if I got, shall we say, antsy.”</p>
<p>“Now you have a partner, so you can have as many ‘meals’ as you want,” Nat said.</p>
<p>“Exactly. As many as <i>we</i> want. How about you?” he asked.</p>
<p>“Me? Similar. I seem to have a relatively strong libido, but if I’m not getting any I can still focus, do my job, enjoy life. Being nun-like wasn’t satisfying, but it wasn’t awful.” She laid her head on his chest as he stroked her back. “You mentioned yearnings and fantasies. Our sex life has been spectacular, but mostly straight ahead. Don’t you want to explore some of your longtime desires?”</p>
<p>“No need. Everything we do is sensational. You’re like wish fulfillment on two legs.”</p>
<p>Natasha laughed. “You’re one to talk.”</p>
<p>He chuckled. “That reminds me of a fantasy, actually. Not sexual, but romantic. I’ve always wanted to stay up all night long with a girl.”</p>
<p>“Just talking, you mean?”</p>
<p>“Yeah. Being so taken with someone’s stories and thoughts that the time flies and you don’t want the conversation to end. And they feel the same. In art school, Bucky told me about a girl he stayed on the telephone with for eight hours. It seemed so sweet and intimate to me.” There was a faraway look in his eyes. “In the old days, I tried not to envision being married—it was improbable, given my health and limitations. But I allowed myself to dream that a woman might find me interesting enough to talk to for that long. At least once.”</p>
<p>“Oh honey. I’d love to stay up with you all night. Whenever you want. Does it have to be on the phone?”</p>
<p>“That’s what I always imagined,” he said.</p>
<p>“Were you such a goody-goody you couldn’t even fantasize about being alone in a room with an unrelated female?”</p>
<p>“Wasn’t that. I thought I might be able to lead a girl into a long conversation, but only over a wire. Kind of a Cyrano thing. If she had to look at little ol’ me, she’d call it off.”</p>
<p>That’s heartbreaking, Natasha thought. “You certainly don’t have to worry about that now.”</p>
<p>Steve smiled. “We’d have other problems.”</p>
<p>“You think I’d fall asleep? I’m not so old yet that I need naps.”</p>
<p>“It’s not that we’d nod off. At some point we’d stop talking in favor of . . .” He nibbled her earlobe.</p>
<p>She giggled. “Canoodling would ruin your fantasy?”</p>
<p>“It’d convert it into a different one.”</p>
<p>“You said when you were young you avoided thinking about a wife. I assume that meant sex in general, since a morally upright fellow like you would save himself for marriage.”</p>
<p>“I was taught that there should be both love and a wedding before sex, yes,” Steve confirmed. “I didn’t seem to have a chance in hell at any of them. And then during the war, we were pulling insane stunts during missions. I tried not to get invested in the future because I wasn’t sure I’d have one.”</p>
<p>“Been in that position myself. Didn’t that change after you were rescued?” Natasha asked. “Various issues aside, you had to realize you were quite the eligible bachelor.”</p>
<p>“I still avoided thinking about it,” Steve told her. “At first I had the stuck-on-Peggy problem, and then the ‘women nowadays kind of scare me’ problem. I got over those and graduated to the ‘my favorite person is Natasha but we can’t do <i>that</i>’ problem.”</p>
<p>“You admitted to fantasizing about me wrapping my legs around you. Unless that was more generic lady legs and not mine specifically.”</p>
<p>“Oh, it was very specific. I felt guilty about regarding a colleague that way. I tried not to imagine intimacy with you, but I was often unsuccessful.”</p>
<p>“What kinds of things did you envision?”</p>
<p>“Nothing much different than what we do now. Frankly, our sex life is better than I ever dreamed. You are amazing, and lovingly enthusiastic, and just so good at it.” Steve looked up at the ceiling and considered for a moment. “I do remember a scenario that involved whipped cream. And a jar of those sticky red cherries.”</p>
<p>“Fun, though tame.”</p>
<p>“I guess my fantasies are too wholesome. Sorry.”</p>
<p>“You don’t have to apologize for whipped cream and cherries and wanting to talk all night. I’ll cosign all of that,” said Natasha, smoothing his beard.</p>
<p>“What about your fantasies?”</p>
<p>“I didn’t have the ‘thinking about sex is a near occasion of sin’ trip put on me. I came up with numerous scenes featuring you, and never admitted them to anyone. They weren’t often kinky, just adventurous. Not a lot of beds involved.”</p>
<p>“What replaced the beds?”</p>
<p>“Quinjet seats at nine thousand meters. Tops of buildings. Cliff edges.”</p>
<p>“I see a pattern. We should go out to the falls again,” Steve said, playing with her hair. The fantasy talk was turning him on. Her being so eager to wear his dog tags somehow contributed, as did the momentous decision they’d made.</p>
<p>“I have some that are less ambitious, and indoors,” Nat revealed. “In the shower—which we’ve done, yay us. Against a wall. On a grand piano. Closed, though. I’m not quite that adventurous.”</p>
<p>“Aren’t pianos about this high?” With hands on her hips, he picked her up. Turning smoothly, he set her on the kitchen counter, careful to avoid the electric teakettle.</p>
<p>“Close enough,” Natasha said, laughing.</p>
<p>“Not close enough,” he responded, urging her knees apart so he could stand between them and embrace her tightly. “Need closer.”</p>
<p>Inches away, Steve’s intense look made her tingle. He leaned in to kiss her deeply, and she grew dizzy from his urgency. It was as though she could feel passion in his touch, taste it in his mouth, smell it on his skin. He exuded sexiness from every square inch, to her utter delight.</p>
<p>While they kissed, he caressed her under her top. Finally he released her mouth, leaving them both breathing hard. Remembering her thrill when he’d torn off her bra a few weeks before, he tugged at the shirt and muttered, “You want me to rip this apart for you?”</p>
<p>“Carry me into the bedroom and we’ll see. More privacy,” Natasha suggested, noticing the open living room blinds.</p>
<p>“Bed? Privacy? What happened to Little Miss Let’s Do It on the Roof?” he teased, and suckled her neck, stopping right before the point of pain.</p>
<p>“I’ve been hanging around with Mr. Vanilla,” she managed to say, arching her back. “Gotten more prudent.”</p>
<p>He backed off enough to watch her mischievous eyes and lush lips. She thought his sly smile was the sexiest she’d ever seen. He was almost glowing, as if someone had given him an extra surge of vitality.</p>
<p>“We got it on only a couple of hours ago,” she said. “What’s with you this morning?”</p>
<p>“You asked me to marry you, and said yes when I asked you to marry me,” Steve said simply. “It’s one of the best days of my life. I can’t contain what I feel. I want you to feel it too.”</p>
<p>“I do, Steve.”</p>
<p>“I want you to know I adore you right now, and tomorrow, and until . . .”</p>
<p>He couldn’t finish the sentence, but it didn’t matter. She kissed his lips and they left off talking for a minute.</p>
<p>When they came up for air again, Natasha said, “I would like to point out that when I suggested the bedroom, I never said anything about bed. There are walls in there, you know.”</p>
<p>“Never tried that before, but . . . Shall I take you?” he murmured in a deep voice.</p>
<p>“Do it,” she said, wrapping her legs around his waist and arms around his neck.</p>
<p>With her clinging and him holding, he walked her across the room and through the bedroom door. He stopped by the entrance to the closet, puzzled.</p>
<p>“I thought your robe was hanging right here,” he said. “Is it in the bathroom?”</p>
<p>“Not sure,” she answered. “Why?”</p>
<p>Steve continued over to the bed and scooped up the bathrobe from where she’d left it. “It’ll make good padding.”</p>
<p>Nat chuckled. “This scenario is getting less hot second by second. You’re planning to fuck me up against my fluffy pink bathrobe?”</p>
<p>“I am absolutely going to fuck you against your fluffy pink bathrobe. You don’t want to get bruised or scratched, do you?” He maneuvered over to the closed bathroom door and hung the robe on its hook.</p>
<p>“You’re supposed to be so swept away by lust that you don’t care.”</p>
<p>“I do care, though. Pleasure shouldn’t require pain and discomfort. Unless you’re into that, of course,” he clarified.</p>
<p>“Not so much. Been there, done that, got the T-shirt. Speaking of which, let me down so I can get out of these clothes.”</p>
<p>“Am I doing any ripping?”</p>
<p>“Well, no. I love this thing and I don’t want to have to ask for another one.”</p>
<p>“Yeah, awkward. ’Hi, can I have a replacement ClubCap shirt? Cap destroyed mine.”</p>
<p>Natasha smiled, noting to herself that Steve had made the self-reference without hesitation. Maybe he was chilling out on the Aptain-cay America-yay issue. And he’d just casually said something naughty to her. Progress.</p>
<p>They stripped off their shirts and he stepped toward her, taking hold of her upper arms and caressing them. She leaned back against the robe on the door as he studied her body and then looked into her eyes.</p>
<p>“I can’t get over how stunning you are,” he said with a wondering smile.</p>
<p>“Does this remind you of anything?” she asked.</p>
<p>“Yeah.” They were both recalling when he confronted her in the hospital after Fury’s supposed death. “By the end of that conversation, when I wasn’t so freaked out and I knew you were on board with me, I wanted desperately to kiss you,” Steve said.</p>
<p>“Me too. It’s why PDA was the first technique to come to mind when I spotted Rumlow on the escalator. There are other things I could have suggested.”</p>
<p>Steve moved in slowly, watching her face, and they kissed softly and searchingly. Nat shivered as he circled a nipple slowly with his thumb. The sexy quotient was quickly rising, fuzzy pink padding or no.</p>
<p>Looking her over again appreciatively, with one finger he brushed aside strands of her hair that were entwined with the dog tags dangling between her breasts. “Mm, nice,” he said.</p>
<p>“You enjoy seeing me labeled as property of Steven G. Rogers?”</p>
<p>“No,” he answered firmly. “I’m glad you have a memento of me to wear. It’s like keys.”</p>
<p>“Keys to your heart?”</p>
<p>“And everything else.”</p>
<p>“Good. I want everything you’ve got,” she murmured, and reached down to stroke his erection through his sweatpants.</p>
<p>His breath caught in his throat, and he backed away a step. In seconds he’d rid himself of his pants and crouched before her, peeling her leggings down to her ankles. Natasha kicked them aside, then gasped as he leaned forward to tease her clit with his tongue. She was thoroughly wet. He licked his lips and looked up with a devilish grin.</p>
<p>“Ready to go for a ride?”</p>
<p>“Giddyup,” she said as she straddled his legs. They both groaned as she sank herself down onto him. In one swift, fluid motion he stood and pushed her up against the door with a thud, penetrating deep, his hands under her thighs securing her from sliding down.</p>
<p>Talk about starting off with a bang, Nat thought. She found the novelty and unusual friction highly enjoyable.</p>
<p>But it was Steve whose heart soon began to pound as sweat formed a sheen across the expanse of his back and chest. The angle of attack, the way her weight pulled on him, and her legs locked around his body amplified his pleasure. The high emotions of the morning, symbolized in the tags that danced across her breasts, which bounced enticingly with his every stroke, magnified his excitement so that he found himself at the edge of orgasm in only a few minutes.</p>
<p>“Whoa, need to, slow down,” he panted.</p>
<p>“Don’t,” she responded. “Take care of me after. Go for it.”</p>
<p>Seeing the delight and anticipation in Nat’s flushed and beautiful face, he didn’t argue.</p>
<p>Glad that he’d insisted on the padding, Natasha was slightly worried the door would give way as he thrust and ground faster and harder. Steve’s eyes closed and he gave himself over to the pursuit of satisfaction. But an ever-vigilant part of him held back. If he didn’t she’d be seriously injured and the door torn from its hinges.</p>
<p>The last few thrusts ended in a strangled cry and his slamming a palm against the doorframe, which was fortunately solidly built. His intensity was thrilling, but the geometry of the situation wasn’t perfect for her so she hadn’t yet reached climax. It was all right—she was glad to be undistracted as she watched his ecstatic face and magnificent body in near-abandon.</p>
<p>After he’d finished, Natasha unwound herself. He took the hint and let her down. Immediately she noticed something; more precisely the lack of something.</p>
<p>“You’re always juicy, but I’m not feeling anything. Are you OK?” she asked with concern.</p>
<p>Steve was still panting and unbalanced, though as usual recovering quickly. “Didn’t ejaculate. On purpose.”</p>
<p>“Oh.” Nat wondered about the why and how but it was not quite the time for an interrogation.</p>
<p>He leaned in and gently pinned her against the door again. “What do you want me to do for you?”</p>
<p>“Let’s lie down and get comfy, and I’ll consider my options.”</p>
<p>To her surprise, he cradled her in his arms and carried her to the unmade bed. Laying her carefully on the sheets, he hovered over her on all fours, gazing intently into her face, awaiting instructions.</p>
<p>“Spoon me for awhile? We’ve got time,” she said.</p>
<p>Steve lay down behind her so he could idly nuzzle the nape of her neck as they cuddled. “Whatever you say. I’m still buzzing.”</p>
<p>Although the position hadn’t gotten her there quickly, Natasha was still pleased with the fulfillment of the fantasy. It had worked better with Steve than with previous lovers: one had pounded away uncomfortably, another’s knees gave out after five minutes, and a third loser let her fall. She wasn’t surprised at the difference. All the activities she’d tried with Steve so far worked better with him than with other men. Nat was curious about his latest trick.</p>
<p>“So tell me, big guy: How do you manage to come without the jizz?”</p>
<p>“It’s not complicated, really. Just have to clench a certain muscle at a certain time. Learning to do it involves some discipline.”</p>
<p>“Does it feel as good as a normal climax?”</p>
<p>“Honestly, no—you miss the feeling of release. But it shortens the time until being able to perform again.”</p>
<p>“You don’t need to worry about that. Why did you bother?” she asked.</p>
<p>“I read about it and wanted to see if I could achieve that control, even though I was flying solo. It gave me a goal other than getting myself off, yet again. And there are situations where it comes in handy.”</p>
<p>“Heh, you said ‘comes in handy.’”</p>
<p>“Har-de-har-har. You know the time in Romania we talked about recently? It prevented a mess in a tac suit in the field. And it’s helpful now, when I owe you some special stimulation. I get to taste more of you than me.” With that, Steve sat up, then bent over to suckle her inner thigh. She spread her legs to accommodate him and he began to attend to her favorite spots, which his tongue had visited earlier that morning from another angle.</p>
<p>As he slid a finger carefully inside her, Nat moaned and said, “Mm, lovely, but I want something bigger.”</p>
<p>“You sure? Today was supposed to be hands and mouths only, and I was pretty rough on you just now.” They’d agreed to take a break every few days and only engage in gentle play so Natasha wouldn’t become sore.</p>
<p>“Today changed. We’re celebrating. Get on up here.”</p>
<p>Steve obliged, straddling her and teasing each nipple with his tongue. Then he picked up the chain, pooled on her chest, in his teeth. He tugged on it, growling like a dog.</p>
<p>“What the hell are you doing?” Natasha asked, giggling.</p>
<p>He dropped the chain. “Practicing being silly,” said Steve.</p>
<p>“So you’re in training to be less serious?”</p>
<p>“You got it.”</p>
<p>“What for?”</p>
<p>“My current mission. To make you laugh,” he answered. “To give you every pleasure. To make you happy.”</p>
<p>Natasha basked in the warmth of his love, beyond the heat of his body. The idea that she would never be without this feeling filled her with joy.</p>
<p>“You already do. And I’m gonna make you happy right back.”</p>
<p>They kissed with renewed vigor, their thoughts dissolving into nothing but the pursuit of happiness.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thanks for reading. I haven’t written fanfiction in a long time but recently I’ve been fascinated with some of the MCU characters and stories. Why now? Dunno! I have an original fantasy novel series that I’m working on but I’m led at the moment to let the drafts rest and have fun with someone else’s setups. I finally decided to share with people who care about this stuff. I found AO3 and am so impressed with the vibrant communities and creativity. My first work here, so would appreciate constructive feedback.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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